1. She is where she saw him.
(A sideways glance
at the oncoming traffic.)

The suitcase by his right foot.
A coat over his arm.

He asks: was her hand here?
He sits down on the upright case.

A hand burns on her belly
and a hand burns above
the car tyre turning in the sun.

She wipes saliva from her lips.
Her fingers brush the sunlight off his suit.
2. Once a filter cigarette is wedged
into the slide of a matchbox on her knee,
she slides her hand into the V of her sweater.
Fingertips on her collarbone.

A pin on his suit. (Milk from the spotlight.)
Finely-striped socks. The edge of a thumb under a brooch.
A smile clenched to a yawn in a handkerchief.

Nothing escapes her.
No-one escapes her.

A tea-towel without a pattern.
A loaf without an oven.
3. It wouldn't be a proper boat trip without those birds
she says and on the guardrail
her hand covers the graffiti.

She has a skirt round her neck.
She's wearing yesterday's makeup.
A gust of wind frees her earlobe.

His mouth seldom tastes
of the cage in the hull.
Birds tap against the frame.

Translation: Francis Jones