HOT – Maureen Almond

I Know Exactly The Sort of Woman I’d Fall in Love With

If I were a man.

She would flambé and bubble like Tina

Turn her temperature to more than fifty

The rough wild husk of her voice would lift me

to way past boiling point. Oh this Prima

Donna of my fantasy, I’ve seen her

drooling at me. A hot chilli kiss she

blew, landed on my plate once, it missed me

by a spare rib – made my taste keener.

As for me, I’m already shimmering

in a thin glaze. I can turn up the heat

whenever I want to. I’m simmering

waiting to be whisked along with her beat.

She doesn’t know, but in the glimmering

of her eye, I’d be good enough to eat.

(After Deryn Rees-Jones)

What Colour Would He Be If He Wasn’t The Colour He Is?

If he wasn’t pink

or sometimes red

mostly he’d be blue,

not a miserable sad sort of blue

but a light-hearted turquoisy blue.

He would live in the sea,

he’d be a whale

and we’d never have met

unless I was a mermaid

and that’s unlikely

because I’m afraid of the water.

I’m more of a greeny person myself,

need my feet firmly planted on the ground.

I’d quite like to be a goat actually;

people have no strong feelings either way

about goats, they just leave them

alone to get on with it.

You’d never see a whale and a goat


would you?

That would be stupid.