Poetry Magazines - The best collection of poetry magazines online - Simon Armitage

After two years and seven months
Of timetables, thermometers,
Lettuce-heavy lunches
Of working out together in the gym
To get the badness out, the good stuff in.
After no strawberries, no rhubarb,
No dandelion tea, red wine in moderation,
Red wine in moderation as a treat.
After this regime and that fad
Timing the coition to perfection
The angle and the depth of penetration
The measured breathing, the preparation, the act
Of love, the making of it, the taking of it
The whole bone-shaking-ache of it was gone
Even the dreams were monitored, dry.
And sex will never rhyme with IVF
So now when she ties my hands behind my back
Blindfolds me and says ‘sit still’ whilst driving me
Crazy in the passenger seat, six times round one roundabout
Six times and I’m not even certain we have made
It out our drive. I swear I’ve had enough.
I’ll settle for barren. I’ll drink my inheritance
Not pass it on. When I’m gone, I’m gone.
And I’m solid gone as she pulls up sharp on gravel
Grapples with my door then hauls me out
We stumble before we climb
And we don’t climb but scramble in the dusk
Up to where? Where all I can hear is a hare’s breath?
The fizz from the stars. The shish from the cars below?
I can hear the rustle of cloth as she disrobes. All of it.
And it’s not cold. And as she whispers in my ear
I’m hot for it. ‘Oh’ she says. Weird as tadpoles
And frogs I croak as she grabs at the club of me
And beats her insides out and that bit of me
That has been burning to get out, gets out and flies
The blindfold slips and ‘Oh’ I’m surprised
Above the silhouette of her head with her startled eyes
Above the silent flown owl above the distant growl
Of clouds threatening rain, a shooting star
Marks a billion years that might be history
And I’m amazed to catch my back against
A giant’s groin, amazed at this new phase of our life
Amazed to be writing this two hundred and fifty-eight
Days later as a baby cries and I’m wondering what names
Might go with Cerne.