Kate Doody

From wordsmith to blacksmith and back again

Poems

ON THE SHELF

These days I will not be leaping
into strange new beds, where sleeping
isn’t the intention:
so these days you’ll find me keeping
to myself – and any weeping
isn’t worth a mention.

Who am I kidding? I’ll be heaping
pleasure on reckless pleasure and seeking
rapture til I’m sunk. . .

Fine wines may improve with keeping –
Me? I’m better drunk.

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