A Loss of Lesbians – Patricia Jones

Black Irish
Mouth a split strawberry
Ebony hair framed face
infatuation hit me
Eyes blinded
Lust kicked my guts in
Longing for the touch
Taste of wild strawberries.
She led me on and on
Moving the face away before the kiss
I felt a shadow crossing over
An Irish moon
Was rising fast.
She looked like a Monet
A girl-woman
Wild mad and sweet
She cursed
Plotted my downfall
Formed my hand
Into the shape of a glass-
I had stolen the changeling child
The Gods would punish me.
Summer came in its sweet old
Fashioned way and so did she
My first consummation
The aftermath bitter and sweet
And grief crept quietly in the door
To know at last the sweet shuddering thrill.
Cutting through a morass of masks.
“Macarthur’s park is melting in the rain
All the sweet green icing flowing down,
Someone left the cake out in the rain”
Drinking- drinking more
lacking the courage to accept
I abused the rules of sanity
And something white and innocent
Walked off into the distance.
We met at Ruby Reds

Citadel of respite Oxford Street.“There will be another song to sing

And I will know it.”
I had to leave- to defer
To think- to create
Artificial dreams
Too late….
‘Such creativity’ they shriek,
Such loss really
Such pure
 Irish loss