Jeffrey Kingman
Love Through a Window
Slight movement outside the window
my pulse quickens.
Dusk falling, can’t get the shape
a squirrel on a branch maybe, or vampire.
In the morning I always want an egg.
For lunch, figs.
Rude to ring the bell at dinner.
Death unscrews the door.
By that time
the asparagus will have curled up.
Fleshy pleasures tenuate.
Nosferatu’s skin is papery.
Bite me and I’ll give you a hickey
risk everything.
Make love to a shape
and the shape shapes you.
Is it a triangle if one side is curved?
Sweep me off my feet.
Kiss a bat
it turns into a dark prince.
I kiss the squirrel
and it tries to love me.
But it isn’t easy.
Jeffrey Kingman lives by the Napa River in Vallejo, California. His poetry collection, BEYOND THAT HILL I GATHER, was published by Finishing Line Press in June of 2021. His poetry chapbook, ON A ROAD, was published by Finishing Line Press in December of 2019. He is the winner of the Red Berry Editions 2015 Broadside Contest, the winner of the 2018 Eyelands Book Award (Greece) for an unpublished poetry book, a finalist in the 2018 Hillary Gravendyk Prize poetry book competition, and he received honorable mention in the 2017 Quercus Review Press Fall Poetry Book Award. He has poems published in PANK, Clackamas Literary Review, Crack the Spine, Visitant, and others. Jeff has a Master’s degree in Music Composition and has been playing drums in rock bands most of his life.