Thursday, 12 February 2015


The door clicked quietly closed,
footsteps diminuendo, the vague
tweak of a fob, car coughing,
descending into silence.

They had feared the easy slide of
marital to martial, the
sour smell of jealousy, cock-feathers
flying in her hen-house.

Lying there, smeared, exhausted,
she sought and caught his hand,
his kiss, his sweaty embrace and
wanted more instead.

(Image used by kind permission of to whom I am most grateful and you should go visit. The poem is my imagination and is not a reflection of their lifestyle)

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