Your breath comes fast, comes faster now, and how
It comes, it comes, somehow, as you come now.
Catullus praised a sparrow, I a cat
That brushes your legs, wonders what we’re at.
Would you rather read Buber’s I and Thou
Or should we just enact the screenplay now?
There’s scented candles round the bath. I wash
Your breasts with scented soap. And then we squash.
Although you welcome me, I am unsure
If my arrival has been premature.
She says, “It’s not the only thing that’s small.”
And he replies, “Size matters? Not at all.
What counts is what you do with what you’ve got.
Its measures and its movements hit the spot.”
If you have any comments on this poem, Conor Kelly would
be pleased to hear from you.