cinnamon and brie

Rachel’s hair was auburn-red

flowing to her waist

bearing a delicate scent

reminiscent to me

of cinnamon and brie

 

her smile lit the faces of

favoured school-friends

I sat right behind her

she never noticed me

 

she danced winter streets,

carefree, laughing, singing

and in my privacy

sang for me

exclusively

 

in dreams

Rachel lay beside me

kissing my lips lightly

like a butterfly wing

brushing a blossom

and whispering,

 

‘goodnight, darling. I love you. sweet dreams’

 

we trod separate pathways

until lunching on a bench in Filey,

(mackerel, pasta, cheese, and olives)

harassed by gulls – satanic harpies

a sudden hint

of cinnamon and brie

fired dormant memories

 

in the blink of an eye

the Brig, and the waves

vanished behind Rachel’s face

and curled-claw hand

 

‘spare change for bus fare?’

 

I could give her tenner

but Rachel needed

much, much, more.

 

coffee at a beach café,

her hands hugging the mug

for the heat within

 

she looted the ashtray

to make a rollie

 

‘what do they call you?’

‘Lexi.’

‘have we met before?’

 

I mentioned my name,

she shook her head,

 

‘sorry, can’t place him. who?’

‘no one special... family? Lexi? ’

 

she nibbled a split-end,

bit a fingernail, mumbled,

‘in care’, ‘born dead’,

and ‘termination’

 

the afternoon darkened -

a storm on the cards

 

I offered a bed

for the night

and a change of clothes

 

expecting sex, I guess,

Rachel shrugged - past caring

 

she bubble-bathed in candlelight,

shampooed her brittle,

once-lustrous red hair

that tumbled to her waist -

in waves - she could sit on it -

and pinned a flower behind her ear

 

pain-filled years fell away,

she shone with a glow

long-lost tragedies ago

 

we ate supper,

drank a little wine,

and duetted teenage pop songs

loud and out of tune

 

at midnight she yawned,

‘I'm all done in’

 

I plumped her pillows,

straightened the covers of the bed

gently kissed her forehead

‘goodnight, Rachel, darling. sweet dreams’

 

and next morning,

took her breakfast in bed,

 

she sat upright

no pulse,

still warm

quite dead
but radiant

 

empty arms cradling,

as if nursing a new born

 

and the broken-tooth smile

lighting her face

dazzled mine