The bed we loved in was a spinning world
of forests, castles, torchlight, clifftops, seas.
where he would dive for pearls
my lovers words were shooting stars
which fell to earth as kisses on these lips
my body now a softer rhyme to his
now echo, assonance, his touch.
a verb dancing in the centre of a noun
some nights i dreamed he'd written me
a page beneath his writer's hands.
romance and drama played by touch, scent by taste.
in the other bed, the best our guests dozed on.
dribbling their prose
my living laughing love
i hold him in the casket of my widows head.
as he held me upon that next best bed

poem by carolanne duffy. 'anne hathaway'

i love this poem so much i want to share it with the world.
its like sex on a page. It is sex on a page.