While She Washes Up 1986 Poem by Terry Collett

Fenola is washing up
the dishes after dinner,

Eileen watches her
from the table
in the kitchen,

Fenola talking about
her day at work,

about something
someone did or said,

but Eileen is watching
Fenola's body move,

the way the hands
(pink-gloved)
lift and plunge
in the soapy water,

the way her hips
move so sexually,

the tight bottom,

the way the skirt
holds her,

the black tights,

she thinking of later
after supper,

in bed,

after talk and kisses,

then thinks
of the night before,

the lights out
(just moonlight through
the slit in the curtains) ,

the perfume of her,

the kisses on her body,

the exploration
of each body in turn
or at the same time,

the soft words
of encouragement,

the later messages
of yes and yes
and there and there,

then Fenola turns
and says:
and her husband didn't
even remember
their anniversary
silly fool,

and she(the wife) said
he'd be for it
or rather he wouldn't,

and laughs
and Eileen laughs too,

taking in the shaking bosoms
as she does,

the sweet little piglets
lying there,

and all Eileen can do
at present
is stare.