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.
1 August 2017