While lost one night
we stumbled into
Doggerland, that
nocturnal world of
exhibition and
stranger-sex and my
instinct was to
reverse but you said “No,
wait!” so we watched
the
courtesy lights wink
on and off, the
men flitting like
moths to
someone else’s flame
where
now and then a woman
would
emerge from her cocoon
to
kneel or bend or bow
before some
barely exposed
tumescence, and
one by one the men
falling away,
burnt or empty, as
more arrived—one
so close I felt your
eyes on his
phallus, smelt your
pheromones, saw your
left hand disappear
beneath your
dress, your right
reach towards the
light that would lead
us into the
night of Doggerland.
