Jenny Churchill! Now at last your name

Resurfaces. One night-drive down a lane

Towards the Thames. I think we briefly swam,

Then our companion went to smoke alone

Behind a close-cropped willow as we came

Together in the darkness and lay down.

When bared that night, your whiteness was a flame

Reflected in the grass beneath you. Soon

You slid me up you, utterly untame:

Un-Leda-like, you, Jenny, were the swan.

Your neck your writhing spine. It was a shame

It happened quite so fast perhaps, but then

This brevity paid tribute to your claim

To loveliness, and all I'd wished to gain.


Published by and available from Grey Suit Editions: 33 Holcombe Road, London N17 9AS

£5 with free postage

ISBN 1 903006 00 7