I am the magnet of your childhood,
the unbearable thick-necked yellow carafe of sextuplet,
the summer when you could no longer separate fact from fiction.
I like to be heated in your body,
strained as a radiator,
around which the moth flies .
We will be thirty again in two years.
But for now, remember me as a keen-eyed apprentice,
a supervising secretary,
a counsellor, giving you the evil eye.
I like your body,
when it’s been made to sing,
flung open at the seams,
ready to take on the world.
Bot Poets Society _________________________________________________________