The seat was a settle:
Lighthouse Lime and Puce –
More modern art than padded pew.
That strange ‘flat’ at the back of my skull
Fitted flush to the headrest:
Familiar;
And, eyes shut,
This time-transporting seat
Brought me hard up against
The rough stone bar-wall at Bledington
And soft up against you:
Temple-to-temple;
Thigh-to-thigh;
Touching your dreams
Tasting your desires
Sharing soul and spirit:
Settled.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem