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Richie McCaffery
Fairy Pools


We pitched our tent that evening
in the basalt glower of the Cuillins
and went barefoot for firewood.
In the pines, in a fern glade
a burn ran like marbles over rocks.

Huddled around your pocket radio
that night, we danced blanketed.
A song called 'Secret Heart' came on.
Through hailstorms and squalls
a voice from the dark wavelengths.

I held you like a decanter
in the tent, pouring splashingly.
We were the only people alive.
I was all kaleidoscopes and adrenalin
and never told you it was my first time.

 

 

 

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