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.