I know Exactly the Sort of Woman I’d Like to Fall In Love With

If I were a man.

And she would not be me, but
Older and graver and sadder.
And her eyes would be kinder;
And her breasts would be fuller;
The subtle movements
Of her plum-coloured skirts
Would be the spillings of a childhood summer.

She would speak six languages, none of them my own.

And I? I would not be a demanding lover.
My long fingers, with her permission
Would unravel her plaited hair;
And I’d ask her to dance for me, occasionally,
Half-dressed on the moon-pitted stairs.

from Signs Round a Dead Body (Seren, 1998), © Deryn Rees-Jones 1998, used by permission of the author and the publisher.

Deryn Rees-Jones in the Poetry Store

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