It is naked late by Julia Webb

and here we are

aeroplaning a flat space in the meadow

masking our body stink

with crushed grass

we could be grass angels

but no

the bruise of your lips

is anything but angelic

like the quick sting

when you press each spent match to my skin

I inhale the smoke of you

draw you into my lungs like a prayer

like a yoga breath

but no

we are nowhere near a meditation

we make each other hoot and howl

our bodies zing and spit

the fizz of a grass stalk pulled slowly across a nipple

a fistful of hair

the toothing of an earlobe

day lateness turning

as we swim here

flounders on a retreating tide

Julia Webb is a graduate of The University of East Anglia's poetry MA. She has had work in various journals and anthologies including 'The Forward Book of Poetry 2017.' In 2011 she won The Poetry Society's Stanza competition. She was recently Writer in residence at Norwich Market. She is a poetry editor for Lighthouse. Her first collection Bird Sisters was published in 2016 by Nine Arches Press. Find out more on her blog, her website and on Twitter.

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