The Kiss

The Kiss
Even all those years ago
I can still remember
exactly how I felt
as my father lifted me
above that open
wooden box.

I have an image
imprinted
of the face that greeted me:
wan and wax like
lying there motionless
as if it were part
of an adult game.

There in a drawn-curtained room,
I can still feel the hand
that pushed my head down
and ordered me to kiss
the expressionless face
of a man...

who in the half dark
looked a bit like
my Grandfather.