Last night I went to Lyon on a –
whim
booking click and purpose of your trip?
alluded to some sort a form of work, unspecified
and rubbed things out

when all the while (I and others knew)
I’d gone to stew in sweat and smoke
and bodies reunited up up close

drinking, drink, inhale what’s this, and lifting items from the shelf,
ash dropping
everywhere the sheer exuberance
of foie gras
nonchalantly hid

amongst the cans of sweetcorn, found
we slathered over bread
then went to bed

held hands walking in the park
smoked on bench
and fought

before I left, satisfied, bereft perhaps, a little,
back

– Isobel Atacus