“Someday soon I’ll get a little bit free
I’ll get a little older,
~ Age of Faith



At 46 and 41
we both know —
no one
has fucked like us.

When we pass each
on the street
you hug me
like you are emptying…

Don’t think your kiss on my cheek
stolen while my crowd surrounded me
didn’t rewind me back to us
me at 27, you at 31.

I just couldn’t stand your drinking
but loved the way it could deepen feeling
the music and our dark minds and the stereo
intensity, but you vulnerable between the sheets.

At 46 and 41
we both know, alas
we have not loved
since us.

When we talk my business
in pub restaurant seats
I watch you
wishing you peace…

I know now how to handle your anger
I tell you what to do, and you don’t stammer
I take control for us and lead our way
You apologize for smelling hungover

…And I ask you if you had fun at the party.

We run the occasional errand together
I secretly wonder, ‘could we get back together?’

But while I’m free
I’m older,

My slim figure is the same
Just softer, perhaps tidier
But I could still carve your cock
with an angled back in reverse
you could still grab my ass and sides
grinding me into you more
I’d be at home in your anger
and divine in your pleasure
jerking your stink
into where it hurts

But mostly I would get off on your counsel
for the times I kept you from beer at beer gardens
for the times I begged you long to decipher
that guy from London —

“Another guy from London?”
you were there for the first!

“But this guy is someone else!”
What a fucking idiot I was.

“He’s a dick,” you said
“Never talk to him again.”

And while I’m free
I’m older,

I secretly harbour
a poet’s-past memory
and I am positive and sure
that any man who loves me

will wonder about this Muse
and his effect, you see
And I cannot hold back a smile
when I share this thought:

“he was exquisite”

I am not fit for a good man’s love yet
For I am still a target.

Sylvie Hill 2015