A poem

Red hands hanging in the willow tree and
those pesky foxes.
All women are cats when you turn them inside out.

On being sexually harassed by poetry

OK then yes
I said
Reading the auguries
In my gusset
Watching white wine
Turn to red
In my glass
OK then yes
I will let you in

I’ll take off my tracksuit
Unlace my trainers
And put on your rings
And your shrouds

I’ll eat your damn figs
And lap the honey
And the salt
From your palm

And in the bat time
I’ll feed myself
Back slim enough
To fit between your lines

You have been patient
These afternoons

So yes, then

OK then yes