Wednesday, 22 November 2017

Tension






Don't make me wait as the
sun's stripes whip me from
throat to thigh as I
kneel here wet so
don't make me wait.



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

Sunday, 12 November 2017

Make-Up Remover II


I wake without make-up
panicked in a strange bed
dawn always making me look
drawn and I’m torn between
ringing my husband to
arrange a pick-up or
finding my make-up in the
wreakage of a good night
repainting to wake the
dark shape next to me with a
red ring round his penis when his
face looms over mine murmuring
“Morning beautiful” and
commences a kiss that makes me
forget all the aforementioned and
most else besides.

Sunday, 22 October 2017

Make-Up Remover


The face you wore tonight is now
smeared on my sheets, my
pillow, my face, and your
parloured hair is decidedly
unkempt, your sleepy eyes
between locks accepting this
new openness, this
new nakedness.

Monday, 17 July 2017

Selfie in Context


I didn’t just want you to see me
near-naked but see me in context:
high above burnt-out docks,
amidst the sort of
uncomfortable furniture you used to
bruise my body on,
taking me as I take this,
each act lost in the
burnt-out sky
without context.


(For LHSC)

Sunday, 11 June 2017

Hotel Sheets


Even within the
crisp, clean
hotel sheets I
couldn’t rest, my
insistent erection
unconsoled by my hand, my
mind full of images of
unconsoled women.

The alarm startled me,
twisted in sodden sheets,
still erect, thinking of
when you used to know
what to do with that.

Saturday, 27 May 2017

Elusive Skirt


She hardly needed to be quiet as he
slept like someone satisfied,
as so he should be but
nevertheless she tiptoed
searching for her scattered clothes,
closed the bathroom door with a
delicate click, studied herself under the
harsh light: the marks he’d made
were raw but would fade.

She stole a fingerful of his
toothpaste to abate his taste,
dressed in haste, needing the
coffee her husband would have brewed,
careful her dangling shoes didn’t
bang the doorframe whilst she
scanned once more that
scuzzy floor for her
elusive skirt.

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

Monday, 22 May 2017

Showers



Whilst she showered off their
commingled effusions, he preferred the
short, sharp shock of cold rain, but
something in the woodland tang of
pine, wild honeysuckle, the
unkempt rosemary, thyme,
love-in-idleness, roses
dripping attar, the distant
smoke of burning applewood and
something distinctly feral, in
heat somewhere, reminded him that
he had a woman within who could
never be satisfied but it was his
sworn duty to try.

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

Tuesday, 25 April 2017

Dating Sights


“Send me a picture of your pussy”,
he messaged, so she
made him a movie of her
rouged CSL’s saying “Sadly, my
cat won’t cooperate and so
from now on these lips are
sealed”.

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

Monday, 10 April 2017

Grip







His too-long absence made his
grip too tight—
tears of fabric,
tears in eyes, her
pulse a tattoo of
desire, choked,
condensed.

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

Saturday, 25 March 2017

Stripes








She knew she was often bad,
knew too that he would
never harm her, so sometimes
she would kneel in the sun and
imagine what his
stripes would feel like across
her bare back.

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

Sunday, 19 March 2017

As he left her







We met awkwardly in the
narrow hallway between the
bedrooms, two naked men unsure
how to greet, his dick still dripping, mine
ringed with the red lipstick
reapplied by his wife to
wake me up.

“Breakfast! Half an hour?”
“Great!” With a nod we parted to
reclaim our wives, and
pushing open our bedroom door,
pushing through the scent of recent sex,
I found her as he left her,
replete and wet.

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

Thursday, 2 February 2017

The Importance of Good Furniture


The tallboy caught a shaft of
sunlight in the shop and I
knew immediately it would be
perfect placed between the
two bright windows of my bedroom
and I had just the mirror to
put above it in which we
both could see your face
purpling in passion, the
height just right so that
without your heels you were
forced onto tiptoe to get the
depth you desired, your
breath misting the image, your
flailing hair sweeping it clear.

Tuesday, 3 January 2017

Down


 
You bit your lip whilst I
carefully shaved your pubis,
your eyes dancing between
fear and lust, wanting to be
bare for me but
unaware how the
slanting sunshine
lit with fire the
fine down that
everywhere adorned your
beautiful body.

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