Very Well Don't 1977 Poem by Terry Collett

Very well
don't then
Benny said.

Netanya turned
over in bed.

He could see
her bra strap outline
through her flimsy
night dress
of gentle pink.

Her dark hair
with tints of grey

She had one
of her heads
and was tired
and fed up
with sex anyway.

He stared
at the ceiling
in the semi dark
where patterns made
by street lights outside.

A car went past
headlights racing
across the room
then gone.

The dog barked
downstairs.

He thought
back to Yiska
years before
in the woods
by the playing field
at high school.

Them lying there
in amongst the scrubs
she removing underclothes
quickly in her passion.

He listening out
in case prefects came.

Boys playing football
gave yells and shouts
out on the field.

He entered her
and pumped
in amateur fashion.

Both excited
and exhausted passion.

Netanya's back
is curved away.

He can smell
her foreign scent
she buys.

No sex tonight
no game to play
or urge to satisfy.

Her passion
gone or spent.

He lay awake
drinking in
her foreign scent.