Poetry No. 13 – Sosha Pinson

The First Time A Woman Kissed Me
By Sosha Pinson

If I say it ended with someone entering
the bar bathroom to see me pinned
against a stall with my floor length dress
bunched up around my hips, would that show you
this is not a love poem? I’ll tell you
it started slow;
strange woman’s
tongue jammed
in my drunken mouth,
chest groped
by her kneading
hands & what was left
of my body– bourbon
blackouts, recurring dreams;
eye pressed to my front door’s
decorative glass window like a kaleidoscope
anticipating the beloved’s arrival– no–
I’m begging the fragmented image
of my birth mother always
walking away
because everyone’s first love
is the mother’s body.
& Maybe my married friend
who kissed me & left me leaning
drunk against the bright red stall door
will forgive me for telling you this & mistake
this for a love poem
for the first woman to open
my mouth & feed me a small piece
of her body since my mother first stuck
that sweet raspberry nipple
& made me drink & made me
because praise
starts here always:
tongue groping the word
leaving behind
a shiny film of saliva.


Sosha Pinson is an Eastern Kentucky poet. Her recent poems can be found in Stirring: A Literary Collection, The Wide Shore, Minerva Rising, Circe’s Lament: An Anthology of Wild Women Poetry, and Still: The Journal which nominated her poem “Re-entering The Garden” for the 2016 Best of The Net awards.

Art by Cynthia Alvarez (calvarez.com).


  1. Good one! Strong and powerful, and written with gorgeous lines. One example is this: “because everyone’s first love
    is the mother’s body.”

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