Anthology Final Submission-Francesca Borrelli
By University Writing Group
Frosted windows
The smell of snow fairy lingered
and the bubbles were still whole.
Moist drops dripped too slowly to notice
down the diamond coral tiles.
From the beach cabinet he could see them,
their bodies wet, their hair lathered.
No words spoken, only their eyes
meeting through the steam.
William Hope Collins
Thick scent of weed
and girly aftershave linger
as a 5 pence piece winks at me
from beside your dressing gown sleeve.
Fag ash etches closer to the
mound of T-shirts I never see you wear
but that always need a wash.
Your stripy sock has lasted through the night,
but the left bares your peachy arch
and your bony hand teases the floor,
laden with red stamps, pressed two nights ago.
This page was added on 22/04/2009.