I won’t forget her on the beach – fur the colours of sand.
We wouldn’t have spotted her were it not for the jiggle

of her gait, the turn of her head with ears pricked,
the spine’s taut bow and torque of her hocks.

you
stoop
& shell
your self
touch
in gustgasp

You stopped the car in the lane just before our driveway.

I didn’t ask why. Chestnut trees leaned in on either side,

the damp air breathed. You sat there, looking straight ahead

and said there’s nothing worse than being queer.

This is how it starts.

Champion of every round,

one for hurting / for loveless / for rinsing yourself off afterwards
and meeting your eye in the bathroom mirror and saying firmly
you have not made a mistake / for a mistake

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