Pestering him with a big ask, watching him
into corners with her outlandish sighs,
he has no room to move -- He’s like a cat,
boxed in for the vet -- she holds out fingers
to his nose. He sniffs, and compliments the scent
and then kisses the whole hand. She withdraws
everything, from the shoulder, turning away
before making her demand again, low,
and he has to ask for its repetition.
“I’ll have to ask again. It isn’t much
but I shall, I am sure; you are so mean!”
He quails. She smiles at the discomfort
on the far side of her face. He looks up
at the dead white round of her head, wondering.
--
Lawrence Upton
AHRC Creative Research Fellow
Dept of Music
Goldsmiths, University of London
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