John Rickell

(I November 1931 / York)

The kissing gate


Fading light on our shoulders
welcome night turning blue to black
the mossy bank dark and secret
The kissing gate ceased its creaking
walkers homeward bound, , smiling
as we inscribe a lovers knot,
ripening hay and clover flowers.
The slow day over, for this we came
our cycles in the hedge
our hopes upon each other.
Divest of clothes, honest 'neath the stars
we talked of days ahead
a house with curtain secrets
a door to lock, a bed....our own
not borrowed from the rabbits,
no thistles scratch at our toes
romantic as it is.
The evening cools, moonlight on guard,
shivers down our spines
heaven, heavy on our thighs
Venus and Eros entwined
in pubic congregation.
Ignore the owl, wisdom too late,
we can be wise tomorrow, in the sun
Demurely smiling as they pass
the kissing gate.
'Good day ' we'll say
'Good day '
Fading light upon our shoulders
welcome night turning blue to black
the mossy bank dark and secret
The kissing gate ceased its creaking
walkers homeward bound smiling
as we inscribe a lovers knot,
ripening hay and clover flowers.
The slow day over, for this we came
our cycles in the hedge
our hopes upon each other.
Divest of clothes, honest 'neath the stars
we talked of days ahead
a house with curtain secrets
a door to lock, a bed....our own
not borrowed from the rabbits,
no thistle scratching at our toes
romantic as it is.
The evening cools, moonlight on guard
shivers down our spines
heaven, heavy on our thighs
Venus and Eros entwined
in pubic congregation.
Ignore the owl wisdom too late,
we can be wise tomorrow, in the sun;
demurely smiling as they pass
the kissing gate.
'Good day ' we'll say
'Good day '
Fading light, cycles in the hedge.

Submitted: Thursday, February 20, 2014

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