coasting by on gravel and the rustle
of shrubbery with Parkinson's tremble,
I feel the shivery thrill of danger
and smell you approaching.
You are strange and distant,
physical, hard and oniony with sweat.
Sun peels back our skin
to reveal desire, and we make,
quick as foxes, for the undergrowth.
Originally published as part of the I Love West Leeds Arts Festival