You pull up your spring skirt
of sap rising
sugar-maker
stirring up a scent of sex
and honey
lighting up a white frill
of thorn flower
froth
you thrill me
with your come hither
hover over
like a waiting lover.
And I’m a sucker
for the drama of anticipation,
so egg it on
and draw me out of my earth.
Even the worms
are writhing
fools in the moon glow
heads raised
in devotion
to your flesh-flushed
warmth arriving.
Vera is a Russian-American-Brit living in Brighton with a toddler, a partner and a cat. She campaigns on food issues, runs foraging sessions, and is fairly new to sharing poetry publicly. Her work has been published in fabric-ation eco-poetry anthology, and the Poetrygram Annual 2020.
@verushka