She offers him a slice of peach-

he looks to the stars instead.

She lifts a burning ember

as a tribute to his face-

which he ignores.

She crosses her eyes

the glowing tip between them-

he looks straight up.

She sighs and counts the stars.

Her voice is as a child’s,

Shirley Temple: the star-counter.

She looks at him and frowns.

Her finger numbers them- again.

She tells him that she is bored

with counting and awaits

his attention.

He turn his gaze

to a newly cleared moon,

closing his eyes he sighs.

She sits up and clasps her knees

and stares at the fire ‘hums’

a tune from antiquity.

She retrieves the peach

and offers it to him again-

this time against his lips.

‘You've finished counting stars then?’

he asks, with eyes still closed

and adds ‘Astraea ’.

"A S T E R I A" she corrects him.

He knows she smiles, as he feels the

heat of her mouth on his

 

words and foto Tommy Carroll