Off Summerhill South Poem by Gerry Murphy

MIDSUMMER VIGNETTE

An afternoon breeze
is lifting the curtains
along Douglas Street.
Its huge elemental breathing
fills the room,
cooling our drowsy afterplay.
We lie where we fell,
tangled in half-discarded underwear;
levelled by ecstasy.


BALACLAVA

I am perched
on the edge of the bed,
naked except for a pair
of black lace panties
drawn down over my face
in order to inhale
your still warm, still moist smell
again
and again
and again.


REDUCTIONIST LOVE POEM


Never again
your lovely face in mine
as I wake and blah, blah, blah.
Never again
my arms around you
as I sleep, etcetera, etcetera.
Never again
the rising heat, the cooling passion
and so on.
Never again
those long involved conversations
after midnight
but then, never before.