Poetry Corner

[Gavin Luper]

Crop's Cream

Your kiss of comfort: I smile at the thought
Dry and incomplete, my mouth awaits
Succulent sponge, all I have is yours
Let my hands warm you, harvest queen

To think, dream, articulate: I'm too exhausted
But permit me this one vice, and its grip
Lurid golden silk, be my favourite fortress
The best and only colour in my life.


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A reflection on my habits over the past month or so: there was an awful lot of beer.