Poem 148

I’ve got a good memory so it’s surprising and pleasant to find in the boxes poems I have next to no memory of writing … particularly when they’re as open flowing and full of life as this one …

The Naked Air

The air is naked it's having sex
with everything 
                  hair and fur

and leaves
it's running everywhere wild flurries of kisses
its heart is so light

it loves you
it loves me
it loves the two of us together like this

when we give in and when we resist
like the sea resists
                     stiffening under the panting body
afraid its own advances will be too clumsy

               the air is naked
               wind is its skin
               its veins carry scent
               and stink

it commits every sin loves its own body
as if it was someone else's
whores it left right and centre
                                  confess
    we're all its secret lovers
snatching a moment on the street
on balconies
               through the open window
               of the train

I saw you lift your chin to its kiss
 swinging down through the rain
when I had only left it
at the other door
                    how could I be jealous?