Small Lit Fires 1916 Poem by Terry Collett

Susie lies beside Polly
in their bed
in their room
in the attic.

Chill in the air,
dark with only
moonlight to break up
the darkness.

Polly had cried
herself to sleep,
moping after Master George
and his plight

being home
from the Front.
She sleeps now
and Susie lays

her head against
Polly's shoulder,
a hand about her waist,
sniffing the body

for soap and odour
and hugging close.
Polly would have been
in his bed had he been well

and them up to no good
having sex,
but she is here now
with Susie,

keeping her warm,
satisfying some
of her dreams
and desires

that lie deep within
like small lit fires.