PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Benedict looked over
the edge of the garden
looked down
at the sheer drop

Lizbeth looked over too
standing beside him
quite a drop
she said

are your two little sisters
safe when they stand here ?
she asked
we’re usually with them

or my mum
Benedict said
he looked
at the beautiful view

ahead of him
hills
fields
trees and bushes

birds in the sky
she looked sideways
on at him
his quiff of hair

the open neck shirt
the jeans
the rest of his family
were out picking blackberries

while he was here
alone with her
and all he talked of
was the garden

and the view
and how he helped up
at the farm
she looked back

at the cottage
thought of his room
the bed
the glass tank

of shells
and bones
and moss
the model Spitfire

hanging from the ceiling
she wouldn’t mind
the Spitfire
if she were laying there

looking up at it
while Benedict was on her
entering her
and the bed

was creaking
and she saying
(what the girl in class
said she did)

but no
instead she was standing
in his garden
on the edge

while he talked
of seeing
some butterfly
as if she cared

what he saw
except her
on his bed unclothed
sensing him

touching
feeling
gazing at the ceiling
can’t we go in?

she said
get to your bed?
have s.e.x.
before your mother

comes back?
Benedict thought he saw
a sparrow hawk
hovering in the bluey sky

beautiful in its skill
ready to dive and kill
I’m dying
to have sex with you

she said bluntly
tugging at his arm
not now
he said

he smelt the farm
over the way
sensed the cool
of county calm.