making,
sleeper only the mortal sounds can sing awake,
this blessing love gives again into our arms.
Their Sex Life
A. R. Ammons
One failure on
Top of another
Featherlite
Neil Rollinson
Waste not, want not you say as you
wring the last drops, the way
you’d get the dregs of the Burgundy
out of a wine box. You swallow the lot
like an epicure, a woman who hasn’t drunk
for weeks. I see the tongue curl
in your mouth, your lips sticky and opalescent
as it runs down your throat.
An elixir, that’s what you call it,
your multi-mineral and vitamin supplement:
amino acids, glucose, fructose, vitamin B12
(essential for vegetarians), vitamin C,
magnesium, calcium, potassium,
and one third of the recommended
daily dose of zinc. You wipe your chin
with a finger, and put the tip to your tongue.
The taste is acquired; like whisky,
and anchovies, you develop a passion.
It’s an aphrodisiac more efficacious
than rhino horn, or Spanish Fly,
it’s delicious, you say, as you grab my hair,
and push your salty tongue in my mouth.
Casanever
Nic Aubury
To most men, the notion
Of ‘romance and mystery’
Means clearing the porn from
Their Internet history.
The Couple Upstairs
Nic Aubury
Their bed springs start to creak;
Their ardour has awoken.
That’s twice at least this week;
Their telly must be broken.
Putting in the Seed
Robert Frost
You come to fetch me from my work to-night
When supper’s on the table, and we’ll see
If I can leave off burying the white
Soft petals fallen from the apple tree
(Soft petals, yes, but not so barren quite,
Mingled with these, smooth bean and wrinkled pea);
And go along with you ere you lose sight
Of what you came for and become like me,
Slave to a Springtime passion for the earth.
How Love burns through the Putting in the Seed
On through the watching for that early birth
When, just as the soil tarnishes with weed,
The sturdy seedling with arched body comes
Shouldering its way and shedding the earth crumbs.
And So Today Take Off My Wristwatch
A. F. Harrold
It has snowed and, not venturing out, it seems we must stay in,
draw the curtains back and see the winter light reflecting in
and stay in bed or share a bath and eat straight from the tin
heedless of staining the duvet which has become a sort of skin.
And with the thermostat turned up and with the wireless switched off
we do simply simple things that we know we do not do enough
and sometimes they have something to do with lofty things like love
or passion, perhaps, or loyalty, but at other times do not.
For sometimes it must be recognised that duties have stepped in
and regulated each of the hours that we have stretched between
dawn and breakfast, work and dinner and in time the heart wears thin.
And so today take off my wristwatch, let me lie down, breathe you in.
And in the silence between breathing some bird sings in the garden
and once again certain things between us start to harden.
An Epic in Me
Eva Salzman
So that the telling may not be diverse from the fact
–Dante
Sweating, his body becomes hot wax
moulding me. I want my impression to last.
The weight of him is a team of horses
lumbering over a wooden bridge,
shoving, shoving on the advance guard.
Not quite bravery, but eloquent brawn.
He runs whole pitches through the night.
A hundred ‘tries’, he’s no closer to goal.
Making his mark deep inside of me,
he stitches the laces of a cross, a dash –
he who loathes the intellectual.
With him I felt sublimely wordless. Until this.
Ménage à Trois
Neil Rollinson
Insatiable these mornings, full
of a drunk excitement, your eyes
have the glazed look of a woman
who hasn’t slept all night; you wake me
with mouth open kisses, the smell
of a different room in your clothes.
You take off your dress and show me
the stains on your skin
like the trails of exotic gastropods;
a body paint of semen
which I rehydrate with my tongue.
I trace the splash
sleeper only the mortal sounds can sing awake,
this blessing love gives again into our arms.
Their Sex Life
A. R. Ammons
One failure on
Top of another
Featherlite
Neil Rollinson
Waste not, want not you say as you
wring the last drops, the way
you’d get the dregs of the Burgundy
out of a wine box. You swallow the lot
like an epicure, a woman who hasn’t drunk
for weeks. I see the tongue curl
in your mouth, your lips sticky and opalescent
as it runs down your throat.
An elixir, that’s what you call it,
your multi-mineral and vitamin supplement:
amino acids, glucose, fructose, vitamin B12
(essential for vegetarians), vitamin C,
magnesium, calcium, potassium,
and one third of the recommended
daily dose of zinc. You wipe your chin
with a finger, and put the tip to your tongue.
The taste is acquired; like whisky,
and anchovies, you develop a passion.
It’s an aphrodisiac more efficacious
than rhino horn, or Spanish Fly,
it’s delicious, you say, as you grab my hair,
and push your salty tongue in my mouth.
Casanever
Nic Aubury
To most men, the notion
Of ‘romance and mystery’
Means clearing the porn from
Their Internet history.
The Couple Upstairs
Nic Aubury
Their bed springs start to creak;
Their ardour has awoken.
That’s twice at least this week;
Their telly must be broken.
Putting in the Seed
Robert Frost
You come to fetch me from my work to-night
When supper’s on the table, and we’ll see
If I can leave off burying the white
Soft petals fallen from the apple tree
(Soft petals, yes, but not so barren quite,
Mingled with these, smooth bean and wrinkled pea);
And go along with you ere you lose sight
Of what you came for and become like me,
Slave to a Springtime passion for the earth.
How Love burns through the Putting in the Seed
On through the watching for that early birth
When, just as the soil tarnishes with weed,
The sturdy seedling with arched body comes
Shouldering its way and shedding the earth crumbs.
And So Today Take Off My Wristwatch
A. F. Harrold
It has snowed and, not venturing out, it seems we must stay in,
draw the curtains back and see the winter light reflecting in
and stay in bed or share a bath and eat straight from the tin
heedless of staining the duvet which has become a sort of skin.
And with the thermostat turned up and with the wireless switched off
we do simply simple things that we know we do not do enough
and sometimes they have something to do with lofty things like love
or passion, perhaps, or loyalty, but at other times do not.
For sometimes it must be recognised that duties have stepped in
and regulated each of the hours that we have stretched between
dawn and breakfast, work and dinner and in time the heart wears thin.
And so today take off my wristwatch, let me lie down, breathe you in.
And in the silence between breathing some bird sings in the garden
and once again certain things between us start to harden.
An Epic in Me
Eva Salzman
So that the telling may not be diverse from the fact
–Dante
Sweating, his body becomes hot wax
moulding me. I want my impression to last.
The weight of him is a team of horses
lumbering over a wooden bridge,
shoving, shoving on the advance guard.
Not quite bravery, but eloquent brawn.
He runs whole pitches through the night.
A hundred ‘tries’, he’s no closer to goal.
Making his mark deep inside of me,
he stitches the laces of a cross, a dash –
he who loathes the intellectual.
With him I felt sublimely wordless. Until this.
Ménage à Trois
Neil Rollinson
Insatiable these mornings, full
of a drunk excitement, your eyes
have the glazed look of a woman
who hasn’t slept all night; you wake me
with mouth open kisses, the smell
of a different room in your clothes.
You take off your dress and show me
the stains on your skin
like the trails of exotic gastropods;
a body paint of semen
which I rehydrate with my tongue.
I trace the splash
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