DON'T ASK 1997

A WOMAN AND HER HUSBAND IN EIRE IN 1997 THINKING OF HER FEMALE LOVER

How was your day?
Nuala asks,
lying next to
her husband, Brian,
in their bed,
hoping sleep
will come quick
before he gets
to wanting to have
his end away.

Tiring and busy,
he says,
looking at her,
his eyes searching her,
where'd you go?

She looks past him
at the curtains flapping
where the top
of the window is open.

Shopping in town.

Buy anything?

Not much; few bits,
she says,
thinking of her and Una
making love in her bed
in the new bedsit,
and twice going the rounds.

Nothing for me, then?
He says smiling.

No not this time,
she says,
knowing that smile,
that I want to have you
soon kind of smile.

Haven't seen
your friend Una around?
He says.

No not since she left us,
Nuala says,
hoping Una never left
love bites on her body
anywhere; she'd not
looked since she'd
been home and got
the dinner.

Shame I liked her,
he says.

I'll get jealous,
she says.

No need,
he says,
you're my number one.

She recalls Una kissed her
almost everywhere,
and her love making her
so moist and hot.

So how about it?
He says.

About what?
She says.

Us and sex?

What about us
and sex?

Are you up for it?
He says smiling.

Sleepy,
she says.

A quickie?
He says,
his smile still in place.

She resigns to fate,
and so he goes
about his task;
never get,
his mother'd said,
if you don't ask.