Aug 22, 2017 · 1 min read

My First Snog
Midsummer party I drink too much.
You are sixteen I am seventeen.
After a week with saw, hand axes
loppers to cut back Rhododendrons,
make space for trees to breathe,
your eyes have a fire in them,
my sozzled lips meet yours,
the surprise of your smooth teeth
as my tongue trips and twirls
round yours, you inhale my air,
I heave in suffocation, gradually
learn to breathe through my nose,
inhale your fragrance as if in a summer
wood where leaves and blossoms float.

