To tickle his palate,
juice and nibbles:
pistachio lobes, dry roast
knuckles, and toes
squeezed with lemon

followed by hors d'oeuvre -
tongue pate (taste that
mustard), nipples dripping
cranberry jelly and a lick
of garlic fingers.

The main course --
for him, succulent breast
served with sauce and capers

for me, rump steak
a rare half-pounder,
undressed with much relish.

Dessert? Plum mumbles
doused in passion
or lips muttering
honey nonsense

and to finish us off,
'coffee' laced with vodka,
sweet bites, Turkish delight
and a tot of...

by Mary Palmer

An Indian Gift

So, you offer me
a cluster of lychees.

How can I resist
peeling off
one violet-scented helmet

to reveal
white slinky flesh?

Perfumed juice spurting
on my tongue,
runs down my throat.

Moving closer
you offer me another.

Two naked stones
hard and smooth as

‘Chocolate almonds,’
you whisper.

A voice murmurs
'Kernals contain cyanide…'

but lust clamours
for your dark, silky gift.

How can I resist?

by Mary Palmer