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Tuesday, 14 September 1976 00:00

Desire

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The words are from one of my very first poems, written when I was 16

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Desire is the asp
Is the twisting
In my breast
She changes, Time and
Space, or else
Not here to change

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Love was always reaching:

Chubby hands that grasped
An apron as it passes.
And when the fingers were strong
Brown lined, agile
Around your pillow templed head
Your eyes eluded me.

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The appeal of appealing

Eyes, that vacuous
Kiss of fire, desire
Is not there or
Then, but in
Remembering.

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Peter Jukes 1977

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