In the wadded heat of this mid-June snooze, the only cool

is the white small of your back, a sun-missed jewel,

as if long hidden under the mattress of the hermit millionairess,

you too have made this bed secret and precious.

I dare not flex even a cat burglar’s muscle but settle into you

for a cwtch, our arms pleached, a bone-kiss canopy,

a miracle in fact if flesh can meet flesh on such nights as these

and the heart still in the morning hold good.

Slumber Song

for M.

Tom Bennett is an English teacher living in London, originally from South Wales. His poems have appeared in Reed Magazine, Ink, Sweat and Tears and others. His short fiction has appeared in Litro and Pushing Out The Boat.