Gary Kuhlmann

After the War

I will not forget
the scorched rivers
of your lips whispering

past the borderlines
between you and me.
Or your skin's lush layers

in sudden blisters
peeling apart
at my fingertips.

Or the pyres of your eyes
lighting up
a small corner

of the planet.

I will wake up at night,
small flames
licking my bones.

Gary Kuhlmann lives, writes, and dreams in Iowa City with his wife and two children. A 1978 graduate of the University of Iowa in Journalism and English, he has worked as a corn detasseler, wedding photographer, newspaper carrier, and commissioned officer in the U.S. Air Force. He's now an editorial assistant for a University of Iowa publication.