Chin lowered, I moulded into

the scene behind your shoulders,

pressed our embrace into the ley lines

like we were some novelty shaped

biscuit cutter sunk sharp into dough.

Flung back in a waterless mirror of

From Here to Eternity, we rushed against

the dirt and plastic shine of new grass.

I kneaded your arms, scored you

with fingernail half-moons and

brushed my mouth – your neck –

egg white wash and pastry shine.

Sun-baked against the landscape,

our edible design soon cooled into

a memory of Combray madeleines.

With the taste of tea I recall

your fingers; curved shells,

and your eyes; hidden almonds.