Nuala Ní Chonchúir

1970 / Dublin

SEX

An older boy
his front to my back
hooked around me

His brother nearby
leaping in the shadow
of a glasshouse

Their mother blows
long on a whistle
the signal for home

He unpins me
both laugh in my face
I wobble, free

˚

You lap through
the cleated velvet
at my core

Burrowing your tongue
along milky lines
and I blossom

My arcing back
and kneading fingers
are your welcome

When you unpin me
we laugh together
I wobble, free
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