Inspired by a woman I clocked outside the bread shop a few weeks ago….one of those thin women with snappy ankles who wear converse and skinny skinny black ankle grazing jeans and a parka and manage to ooze sex.

Envy really.




She’s got an old neck though.

Skin pulled across muscle and ligament up to her thin downy jaw

like the tension cables on a bridge.

And beneath?

A body dipped in tan.

An expensive sun for that one

not a cheap last minute costa sun

but a far off five star sun.

A tan that cooled itself in near clear,

shallow, glittered water,

no swell to knock it off balance

to leave seaweed in its hair

to leave it gasping, winded,

topless and unwitting full frontal to the larded gawpers on the beach.

She’s waiting for him to buy bread

holding the dog of perfect black

one foot pointed,

eyes still behind dark lenses.

I drink my coffee,

my skin the colour of froth.









Filed under poems, poetry, writing

5 responses to “Tan

  1. This froth coloured woman who would love to wear Converse with attitude loved your poem…

  2. Loved this. It probably wasn’t just her ankles that were snappy…

  3. Oh, yes those thoughts do pop out, don’t they? Eloquently stated envy.

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