My Love, Antonia
Your skin glows like a comical pear in deep moonlight;
You smell as sweet as the unlaundered clothes in a Charity Shop
without even a deodorant to your name,
My yearning heart dotes on your lilting queenly voice
and leaps like a seasick kitten at the whisper of your Latin name,
The evening descends softly over that great Wren Cathedral in the City.
I am calmed by your body chemistry;
I carry your odour into the twilight like a bat out of hell.
I see the moon beams and I hold your rubber gloves next to my table napkin at dinner
so I can steal some food for tomorrow and leave no fingerprints.
I am filled with such intense and tremulous joi de vivre I am going round in hyperbolas.
May I dry your tears of ink and buy you a biro ball point and some artificial tears?
As my left ear falls onto your breast,I apologise at once as
it reminds me of your three dimensionality and your solid geometry.
And your perfect female symmetry.
I have waited too long saving up for a diamond when a curtain ring would have saved years of hard labour,
In the hushed noontide, I wait for the last drones of the USA to pass over
or may be it’s just a herd of wasps having afternoon tea.
My heated hands leap to put your sweet blue shawl around you lest you get a chill
I wait in the crystal moonlight for your sentimental piece of verse to be finished
so that we may drive as one,arm in arm
We discourse spitefully on the spiritual nature of true love.
I have more than once tried to roll your stone away
but your tomb is impenetrable without angelic help.
Oh,Jesus, another nightmare.I am glad to meet you..
I could hardly wait..
And this is my girlfriend,Antonia.
My sweet Lord,
Really want to know you,but it takes so long,I know.
I’m in Heaven..
Here’s Nye Bevan..
And Lord Beveridge..
And He looked and saw it was good.