A poem by Pat Winslow


Thunder is the returning hero you haven’t seen
for a long time, the voice in the hall that sends you
rushing like a girl, the tall man with the good looks.

He’s rumbling through the rooms now, shaking down
your attic full of dreams. And here’s lightning, striding
like a pair of scissors. She’s dressed to kill. Neon white.

He’s growly and hard. His teeth gleam. She loves him
like this. She might force her tongue between his lips.
You watch their drama unfold. Some rules you understand,

others seem to make themselves up as they go along.
You want him big and thrusting – always – and her,
strong and clever, dangerous. It’s all zips and biting.

You let them take you and when it’s over, when they’ve
gone and the sky’s cried itself silly, you tidy up,
still tingling in the silver light they’ve left behind.
(from Kissing Bones)
Pat Winslow currently works as a Writer in Residence at a prison. Her seventh collection Kissing Bones, published by Templar Poetry, will be launched at the 2012 Derwent Poetry Festival. It was announced this week that Pat has won First Prize in The Rialto/RSPB Nature Poetry competition judged by Andrew Motion.

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