Put me in your pocket

She left the party to find somewhere to dance,
laced her orange juice with amaretto and
breathed air that smelt of apples.

Someone had seen her scooped back
disappear as the first fork tinged
on a champagne glass held like a torch,
the man who smiled the most
remembered the way the light had spilt
over her collar bone and shook his head.

Later, when she'd lost her shoes, she twirled
on the ball of one foot and her heavy dress
carried her across the lawn.