Scratch me
Such an itch you are
man I don’t quite know
all the things you might say
if we were on your terrace
with a beer
I see you’ve laid down
the astroturf
recollared the dog
what happens next
in this sun-watched
afternoon scene
at a given moment
am I also laid down
boneless
in my black sundress
how can I anticipate
the mysterious labour
of your tongue and lips
Sometime, Never
Is it because we go home at night
with strangers? Some seed in us
that warns our parents how honour
is changed now. My mother at the
sink, elbows bent to the basin, doesn’t
even think to ask how many men I’ve
slept with. Everything about you
hard in the dark, mouth and arms especially.
I was hoping and not hoping to ever
see you again. Both, really. With
my tongue in the flower of your ear.
ANNIE BRECHIN lives, writes and performs in Edinburgh. She has been published in Magma, Stand, Bad Lilies, Fourteen Poems, Poetry Wales, Paris Lit Up, Rising and others. Her debut, The Mouth of Eulalie, was released by Blue Diode in March 2022. How To Make Love is forthcoming in September 2025.