Upon My Flesh 1962 Poem by Terry Collett

It was summer,
the birds sang loudly
celebrating another day.

I sat next to Yehudit
on the grass
by the pond
(she labelled it
the lake) .

I could see
the outline of her bra
through her
cream blouse
as she turned
around to watch ducks
which had just landed.

Her brown hair
had been well brushed
and tied in a bow
at the back
with red ribbon.

What ducks
are those?
She said.

I looked and said:
live ducks, dead ones
don't move like that.

She looked at me:
funny I don't think,
no what
breed of ducks?
She said.

Don't know
what type,
I said.

I thought you
were an expert
on birds?

I know
some birds,
but it doesn't
make me
an expert
on ducks,
I said.

She looked back
at the pond.

Do you remember
that time
we first had sex
in the woods
back there
that evening?
She said.

Of course,
I said,
and we had a job
to find a spot
that was hidden yet
comfortable enough
to lie down.

She turned around
and smiled
and said:
and every sound
seemed louder
and we thought
we heard voices
and lay still listening.

I remembered
as she said it:
us lying there,
she naked
from the waist down
and me also,
still as statues there,
the evening
drawing in,
a chill beginning
on our skin.

Yes I
remember that,
I said.

She kissed me
and we lay back
on the grass,
staring at the sky,
bright blue,
morning fresh,
and an echo
of that evening
running upon
my flesh.