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Mark C Jan 2013
I have taken you already,
my love - many times;
my heedless husband surrogate.

His (your) teeth at my breast,
drunking my head,
my belly close to –

lungs coursing in time
with his (your) tongue;
yet wresting (just)

his name
from sodden summer sheets.
Breathlessly my

eyes slam closed
as he preens pretended prowess.
Hollow, but composed, I smile;

reach out (to you, to you…) to him
and speak the wooden line
the scene demands.
Mark C Jan 2013
Sunday
is a good day
for making love.

Worms surrender noiselessly,
as blackbirds shush each other
dozing dogs ignore cats curled up
by the embers of yesterday’s fire
napping as the mice enjoy a lie-in

No bustle or hustle
no papers to shuffle
no breakfast and shower and
dress and drive...

...just half-asleep
and half-alive;
floating in the hazy bay
of last night’s lazy chardonnay.

A day for calm –
no plans, no demands –
a drive, perhaps?
a walk in the park?
or maybe just toast and apple juice
and not getting dressed all day.

But for now, just turn over, snuggle up,
and kiss her behind the ear.

Yes.

Sunday
is a good day
for making love
Mark C Jan 2013
i sinned and came
across a page

across this page
my penance
Mark C Jan 2013
She, betrayed, in histrionic flow,
Heart akimbo, flailing at the sky,
Fired with voyeuristic need-to-know,
Rages at the outing of a lie.

He, defensive, understanding, sure,
Accommodates the outburst in his stride.
Lassoes her with a practiced sinecure;
Instinctive gesture, expertly applied.

She, bewildered, aimless and morose –
(He, distracted by the barmaid’s hips)
Casts aside the guilt-effacing rose;
Repealed devotion scrawled upon her lips.
Mark C Jan 2013
Clear the busy crowds away
They are too many
Sweep them aside
I cannot see

Bring down the shutters
Ring the last-orders’ bell
Drive the late-night rowdies home
Let me seek

Pack away the houses
Roll the rainy pavements up
Put the cars to bed
They do not matter:

Somewhere
In a sleepy town
From a restless dream
She starts awake and thinks of me
Mark C Jan 2013
i
worship
the god of small things
this
is
my
blas
phe
mous
rosary

god is good:
gale force winds
sandy beaches
sunset

god is good:
friends who know and still love you
the credulous wonder of children
singing your heart out
knowing you’re alive
thinning gracefully
growing wiser
not caring
puppies
catnaps
99s

god is good:
the joke you’ve never heard before
the queen of the night’s aria
jet engines at takeoff
the lightbulb moment
rolling fields of corn
rolling tears of joy
fine malt whisky
driving too fast
a good book
candles

god is good:
rainbows at the prow of a boat
sunshine after storms
a thin crescent moon
spray in your face
the smell of rain
leaping salmon
shooting stars
dark skies
fireworks
mars

god is good:
a sleeping lover’s moan
knowing he loves you
knowing she’s there
heartfelt laughter
a sincere touch
an honest hug
understanding
dinner for two
growing old
sharing

god is good:
a perfectly sculpted torso
the moment after waking
new scentsations
sincere smiles
a compliment
true friends
promises
release
solace
peace


i  wor
ship the god of
small things. i give
thanks to her
every
day


bless
me
father
for
i
have
sinned
i
threw your cateschism to
the
wind

— The End —