Poetry by Jenna Plewes

On the cliff top we taste the sea in winter

the birdfeeder’s chain turns black

iron bleeds rust on the paving stones

windows gather a haze of salt

and the leaves of the rose bushes scorch

 

but when it turns warm

the breeze is full of the sea’s breath

smelling of sun bleached sheets

and summer’s idleness.

 

I trace your body with my tongue

taste salt in each loved fold and crease

rise and fall in the swell of your sleep

the ceaseless conversation of the sea

soft in my ears.

 

title poem from my first full collection published by IDP. out now

available from me and from www.indigodreams.co.uk