the sixth

Kiss, Interrupted


I was walking down the Boulevard Saint-Michel on a breezy fall afternoon, watching a couple make out. As I got closer to the romantically entwined, a flash of black wing intercepted. Two nuns had turned a corner and were headed toward the lip-locked. I clutched my shopping bag with its bottle of Beaujolais Nouveau. The nuns passed dangerously close to the offending duo, coifs and wimples swiveled in their direction. The couple parted, rattan Parisian bistro chairs scraping the sidewalk, hands wildly adjusting clothing and wiping lipstick. In unison, habits turned forward, and the nuns resumed their relentless march, black robes whipping in the wind. As soon as they passed, the couple embraced, their kiss stronger and more delicious than ever.


Jennifer Shneiderman is a writer and a Licensed Clinical Social Worker living in Los Angeles. Her work has appeared, or is forthcoming, in Indolent Book’s HIV Here and Now, The Rubbertop Review, Writers Resist, Variant Literature, Bright Flash Literary Review, Trouvaille Review, Montana Mouthful, the Daily Drunk, Sybil Journal, Unique Poetry, Anti-Heroin Chic, Terror House, Thirteen Myna Birds, Potato Soup Journal, Awakened Voices, GreenPrints, Prospectus, Autumn Sky Poetry Daily, The Perch, Planet Scumm, Angel City Review, Brown Bag Online, Nanoism and Kingz Daily. She was the recipient of an Honorable Mention in the 2020 Laura Riding Jackson poetry competition.

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