Undressing

is followed by two

whiskey mouths learning

the topography of each other’s

steeps and slopes.

 

I try to relax

now. Now that I’m not huddled in

with two hundred and twenty other

faceless frolickers, raging and

rioting right down to the tips of their

rock ‘n’ roll toes, pampering

their egos for riffs and riffs.

 

A tall-collared, James Dean

pea-coat and a white lace

dress are now fastened to

the floor. What next? Your

white, sweat-glowing t-shirt gone, and

a landscape of skin exposed, earth-

coloured, like a dinner plate

forgotten in the oven.

 

Zoe Williams