Thursday, 6 February 2014


I cup the alabaster shell of her breast,
her nipple a tender barnacle.
I nuzzle the pearls at her nape
and drown in the fronds of her hair.
Fingering the marine,
the mussel-like filaments
of her shucked sex,
fringed and brine-smelling,
she cries, lips parted.
Like Poseidon I sluice her,
pushing into the caves of the sea,
washing over sills,
spilling myself.
The headland swell of her rump
receiving the tide of me,
till she is opened,
till she is washed away,
damp jetsam
on the sucking kelp,
in the streams of sunlit shallows,

No comments :

Post a Comment