A moon between my teeth.
In my surprise I bit down harder than I meant to
And forced something from you
Like a sigh, like a moan, like a drop of blood.
Luck never stays the night.
She came between my sheets and didn’t return the favour.
I rolled straight sixes for six whole months and then (forgive me) my luck ran out.
I still see her around, though: a green-eyed fishmonger, a beautiful boy of seven, a crooked-tailed cat.
Long ago, when you were a moon-lipped lady
I tasted your bite-marks on my tongue.