Naked, you ran the length

       of the long Adelaide night

along the stretching yard

in search of lemons

       to slice in rounds for gin and tonics

pale blue liquid with a splash of moonlight

 

your gleaming white buttocks

reflecting the white moon

reflecting the yellow lemons

 

later, you sank, inches deep

in high-heeled shoes, in lawn

       damp from rain

as a string quartet playing

 

fattened up the evening air

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

© Stephen Cassidy, 1992

Sinking in lemons

poetry