Julia’s Child
I wrote a poem for us,
you say
Silence
Go on then
A tendril of hair pushed back
behind an ear
You look grave, and somehow
your mouth is sexier — I want to
bite your lips
It’s called ‘The Orchard’
Like the play?
Yes, like the play.
Though not, of course, like the play
another wild lock of hair breaks free
the fabric of your sweater,
green on green the weave—
green is the colour
everything is green!
We kiss.
You smell & taste
the same—
of wind and wild water
How is your mouth so hot?
your tongue a wave
snatching,
snatching,
I am useless now beneath you
