The first train

He pushes her over the top

of the high mesh fence

it droops, sags

she hears the rip of her denims

tear an L shape 

steadying herself, she jumps down at his command

her ankles buckling

in front of her a high slope of grey stones;

hard, pointy edges, dark diamond shapes.

Him; freckles, ginger, funny name

old fashioned. Clive or something,

jumps over sveltely- without breath

grabs at her white vest,

hands up pulling apart her trainer bra

yanks at her stone wash jeans,

unzips, sounds like a leather whip

as the belt flicks her bare stomach  

tongue intrusion, wet, slurp, licks her face like a

bulldog

pulls her down by the hooks of her jeans

on to the rock hard hillside

as the first train hurls past.