Annie and Dromida
He never used a cup
but drunk from an flared bowl,
fingers curved around the far side,
his thumb touching the top
of the liquid, then he tipped
the bowl and drank. After a while
she found handles strange.
He did not like hot liquids
or spicy foods that bit
the tissues. She found
that she gave up vindaloo
and turned to the sweet
and aromatic dishes, with lots
of plain boiled rice, pure white.
He confirmed what she had
always suspected, that
the last letters of the alphabet
were in the wrong order.
He had an red faded picture
of a stone light-years away that
proved it. His eyes were as yellow
as a wolf's gaze. She had sucked
barley sugar, sherbet lemons,
soft rich caramels. Her tongue
recognised the colour. His pelt
was flecked like a leopard's
and he preferred the shade.
She had never enjoyed sweating
in public. Their fingers
interlocked.
grasshopper
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