A LOVE NEST

We give up our single beds.
Somewhere in the house,
somebody
is testing your earlobe
with her teeth.

Somebody sweats.

Remember
that accordion
in the upstairs back bathroom.
How it eyed us both
from the bidet.

HOLY PALMERS

For saints have hands that pilgrim's hands do touch,
and palm to palm is holy palmer's kiss.

Wet hands under running water.
Take a measure of soap.
Work into hands, palm to palm.
Right hand over back of left and vice versa.
Rub palm to palm, fingers interlaced.
Back of left fingers to right palms,
fingers interlocked and vice versa.
Rotational rubbing of right thumb clasped in left hand
and vice versa.
Left wrist with right hand and vice versa.

THE FIRST NIGHTS HERE

It all came back again
tonight with the first spring thunder
in a rush of rain.

with just a simple touch
is in my heart again

It all came back again
tonight with the first monsoon thunder
in a rush of rain and I wet again.

when our eyes met
I realised we are still connected

It all came back again
tonight with the first spring thunder
in a rush of rain.

the first nights here proved otherwise
sleep kept light by noises

LOVE POEMS FOR DIEGO RIVERA

Truth is, so great, that I wouldn't like to speak,

or sleep, or listen, or love.

To feel myself trapped, with no fear of blood,

outside time and magic.

All this madness, if I asked it of you.

I ask you for violence.

You give me grace.

I'd like to paint you, but there are no colours.

Nothing compares to your hands.
Nothing like the green–gold of your eyes.
You are the mirror of the night,
the violent flash of lightning.
The hollow of your armpit is my shelter.
My fingers touch your blood,
all the paths of my nerves which are yours.

She who wears the color.
He who sees the color.
Since the year 1922.

Now in 1944,
The vectors continue in their original direction.
Nothing stops them.
Slowly. With great unease, but with certainty.
There is cellular arrangement. There is movement.
There is light.
All centres are the same.
We are the same as we were and as we will be.

Mirror of the night.
Your eyes green swords.
Waves between hands.
All of you
In a space full of sounds.

You were called AUXOCHROME —
I CHROMOPHORE.
The one who captures color;
the one who gives color.

You are all the combinations of numbers.

Morning breaks,
the friendly reds,
the big blues,
are full of leaves.

Noisy birds,
fingers, hair,
pigeon's nests.

Sweet xocolati
of ancient Mexico,
storm in the blood,
in through the mouth.

Omen, laughter,
sheer teeth,
needles of pearl.

I ask for it, I get it,
I sing, sang,
I sing from now on.
Magic — Love

BONES

for LA

I'm not sure if I love Booth

or Hodgins or Sweets the most,

but I think it's Sweets.

But I think it's Hodgins

when he id's beetle excreta.

But I think it's Booth

as he shoots bad guys
and looks hot with guns.

But I think it's Sweets

who reads minds with lips

like a pursed heart.

But it's Hodgins, if only

for Angelina who is amazing

and his baby. Sweets

for his eyes and piano

charm. Booth when his tough

hide sheds with a bourbon

and Bones comes through.

GIRLS I KISSED AT CAMM'S SCHOOL (A KISS AND TELL)

for JB

Kathryn Walker was my first in nursery
and again in reception, and once
in year three under a table on maths
rotation and three times in Lincoln.

I kissed Joanne Bainbridge at the same
time my sister and Andrew Bainbridge
were marrying each other via
a shoebox of plastic rings and letters.

Jessica Baines, Gemma Dodd, were both
girls I tongued under the weeping
willow in year five and Jessica Baines
invited me to her 10th birthday party.

Finally, Jenny, I think, at least once,
and Katrina Cooper and Rebecca Wright
and Sarah Bailey twice.

HONEYMOONERS

for S

We were Spongebob Squarepants in Love,
living in pineapple sized soap dishes
by bath tubs of bath salt infested water.

We were Blue Lagooned on a seashell ship,
adrift in the atolls of a glittering Pacific
moored to nothing but our sun-bronzed selves.

When we surfaced we were twined in kelp,
your legs knotted in my arms and our lips,
crusted with barnacles, locked in a kiss.



This poem was commissioned for charity. You too can commission one here for just £2. Follow the instructions:
http://www.justgiving.com/Gavin-Hudson1

THE FALSE DICHOTOMIES

I drink my coffee with tea 
that is sweetened
without sugar or Sweetex 
and take it black
with milk, UHT and cream.

And I love with my heart
and my mind
the young and the old,
those eccentric scientists 
who blow me away with poetry.

We are physical, spiritual
existential bodies,
born in the celestial spheres
of blood and dung, 
and you 
are an open field.

ROMANCE

for H B–W

The problem was math. There was one
and another one. There were a dozen
red carnations, but the math
was six candles plus a rose petal bath
and italian food. Two drank champagne

with fifteen oysters in a station bar.
Work out the cost of brief encounters.
If Jack loves Jenny and the obtuse
angle is ninety-seven degrees,
what is the chance of disaster?

Love is the answer. If Heather loves
Chris, then sixteen hands of gloves
and a couple of rings, eighteen doves
and a kiss, or vows are enough.



This poem was created on commission. Commission your own poem here:
http://www.justgiving.com/Gavin-Hudson1