12 Degrees & Skiving

what began as year-long challenge has become perpetual until further notice

April 17

primavera in the maremma

a child’s colour box bandied
by a young girl, hair static
loose
across the mole-dappled flank
of her sleepy lover

licks of peacock
gold, azure
chaste daisies
in their safe numbers

bumblebees fat
furred with pollen

nothing shy about the violet
she lingers long, cools
her shaded heels
the heat behind her eyes

loin-fuelled
lazy-lidded
drunk
on a diamond of sun
folded over an afternoon buttock
on a lunchtime bed

P1160331

Tell me wotcha reckon

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