I hadn't thought of you, hadn't thought of

you walking into The George, buy you did.

And through the smoke and people standing up,

you saw me lying on the carpet with

Andy, was that his name? I'm not too sure.

I do remember how much I'd fancied

him.  He was blond, while you're dark, blue-eyed while

yours are grey.  I don't think you've forgotten

have you?  I don't have much of an excuse,

except it was lunchtime and I hadn't

eaten—but I had drunk nine bottles of

Becks, so lying at the back of The George

with, let's call him, Andy seemed OK.

Perhaps it was, until I was aware

of your leopard print shoes next to my head,

and the way you said nothing.  I'm grateful

for that.  You put out your hand, helped me to

my feet and walked me back to North Lambeth.

It was then that I knew I wanted you.

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A groaning thwack,

like a ball and bat.

Your cork is out.

A mini oil slick,

you stick to the glass,

then rush my tongue.

Expensive as shoes,

the colour of corn,

parsnips, a pale donkey.

I drink like a fire-eater.

You hit my mouth

with the smell of autumn.

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First, I have to open the book,

I need to find the right poem—

yes, yes, I'm getting something now.

I wonder what this one's really like,

off the page, whether he likes doing this,

or feels it's what he has to do.

And does he need someone else—

someone to get him flowing?

Look at the shape of that one—

he's worked hard to get it to look

like that, it pulsates, it's rhythmic,

no flab there, it's strict verse, rigid even.

And the editor, what does he go for?

Obviously he likes it straight,

you can tell from the way

the poem stands up, he likes a bit

of authority.  And does he want me

to get to the point, or does he want

emotion—and does he like couplets

or would he go in for threesomes?

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Her diary,

the way the words hurry

intoeachother,

and then

apart—

as the days

and her body

lost out.

I took the diary

from her bedside.

I did nothing else,

no sorting of clothes,

touched nothing

of hers,

save the diary, reading

how she wrote across days

and off the edge

of the page.

published in Rain Dog, 2006

and Poetry for Palestine:  Selected Poems,

Morgan's Eye Press, 2006

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