A Poem: Tanya Green

i would have kissed
you

hard,

the first time,
when i got the chance:

the park bench
behind
the elementary school,

on soft lips,
wet

with the last few
drops of dew stained

on the afternoon grass—

thought of your smile,

saw your face from
across the room,

sitting in the back row,

when you had an itch,
but couldn’t get it
underneath your cast,

and the victory
when you realized

you could reach it
with your pen.