You showed me how easily
the cheesy wotsits crumbled through your fingers
sticky orange dust filling your hands
my heart pouring its molten mass onto your palms.
You hold out your hand
and laugh softly, beckoning, seducing,
wordlessly, I bend to lick off the crumbs,
nibble those long fingers,
caress my liquid heart aquiver in the scoop of your hands.
My tongue feels pure joy
And then the morning-starved yell of one fat baby
pierced the thickening dawn
and that was it
querulous mouths back demanding
running up and down those stairs
retrieving wellies and jumpers to pull on protesting limbs.
Yet that dream glow stayed with me all day
as I gave my serviceable Mum-shoes a miss
and slipped on lethal heels.
That day I felt attractive again.
We first kissed under the laden waft of Chernobyl
all that summer we were ablaze
counting the hours since our last kiss
you only knew my body in its sinewy smoothness
not the quaver softness of child-stretched flesh
you only remember hopes and ideals
not the compromises and shortfalls
I like the picture of myself in your mind’s eye
still dewy potential, spirit and energy.
But then the pale sceptre arises with rueful smile
admitting, ‘I’m tired now. I’m off to bed.’