The Quarry Poem by Sheena Blackhall

His body looked at her,
My little dancing cousin
Taboo. Forbidden fruit
Unripe and lovely in her summer frock

He led her up through fiery clumps of nettles
To the grey quarry edge
Wanting to wear her womb like a tight glove
Her shining eyes too young to read the runes
Far below, great stones like giant’s lego
Lay on the cracked ground

A great gallumping dog came barking up.
Its anoraked owner tipped the scales of luck
In the nick of time.
High in the sky’s vortex
A hovering hawk sheered off
Wheeling off to the housing scheme in the North