Friday

a, b, c, d, e, f, g, h, i love

i click-clacked down amhurst
tea-sure like alphabet st
was written by me

like wonderwoman i was
and every boy
wondered, wondered

why i smelt like
sex and who i was
sex in the sex with

well, i’ll tell you for
free (i surely am)
and no mistake

i was in the sex with
this new shining black-
haired top we

shall refer to as ‘magic’
hot and soft as
profiteroles

sparking through my days
like a crackle and
BANG

with the trickling red
fire and dark brown
kissings each

one round and smooth as
a mortar and then the
pestle what

kills me up
and opens me in bits
you bites my lips in

ouch and thanks
and cup me up and siphon it
won’t you

come and have a go
if you think
you're