by Todd Rivers Copyright ©2026 Kissing lips ripe as spring’s first cherries, Sweet with the promise of breaking fast. Silk stockings whisper like palms in wind, Your dress a petal about to fall. We kneel, not in pews, But in the garden of each other’s heat, Where lilies lean to watch. So sweet. And warm to caress. The world outside sings of risen light, But here, in the shadowed bloom, We practice our own resurrection, Bodies unsealing like tombs, Flesh finding its h