Duet

You knew I’d worm my way inside.
Coffee? Somehow I feel obliged.
After all it’s cold out.
I stomp the soil and snow from my shoes
On the doormat,

Then sprawl out comfy on the sofa
As you plop in lumps of sugar.
No milk, sorry.
You bend down to present the dirty brew.
I take it, meet your eyes, and then you know.

You slide on like a squid, enveloping and slow,
My bellowing hands swallowed by a wall of marshmallow.
It takes a while to find the hole;
An awkward one-handed amateur fiddle,
And an absent stranglehold.

You cram yourself in, face above me white and taut,
Frantic buttocks beating like a moth at a light,
Pumicing breasts with your chin
Until eyes thank God and teeth clamp closed –
I unload.

Off I roll, but you won’t let it lie
And with the knife that cut the cake I drive
Your lustreless face to ecstasy.
Your juices glove me, overflow,
Assault the front-room floor.


23/07/00
First published in The Frogmore Papers, 03/04