Saturday, 12 April 2014

NaPoWriMo Catch-up 5: Cloud on my Shovel

All the other girls have gone.
Outside, it’s cold. But we’re already in
your flat, the tinsel serpent winding round
your yucca plant, and you lean over,

asking may I kiss you

and then you’re in,
a kiss that wakes a violence,
that won’t leave me
the way I was before:

we bridge together on your floor
and as you scratch my back I know
I’ll wear this red tattoo for near a month:

the one you leave behind inside far longer.

*  *  *

Playing fast and loose with the prompt to write a golden shovel, here inspired by lines from the Tori Amos song 'Cloud on my Tongue'.

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