Blue Linen Poem
It button-holed me in Bond Street,
this poem, the colour of original love.
It seemed meant for you
though, for all I know,
blue linen poems are in mysterious
bad taste – and yours is definitive.
But let it persuade you – turn it
in the light; it is many blues – midnight,
flax, lapis lazuli – each the most beautiful.
When you wear it, feel my arm round you,
my hand skimming your ribs,
delighting in the way you’re made.
Wear it – it will sing to you.
In a pocket you may find a chocolate walnut,
or a heart, wrapped, not to stain.
Page(s) 59
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