Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2010

Casual Sex

by lucy pitt

Casual sex is a funny old term,
It suggests that no jacket's required
But I think it pays to be formal,
There's strength in the smartly attired.
It seemed to be something,
That one night we shared.
It appeared we were having a moment.
I felt this was better than sliced bread itself
And that his touch would lead to atonement.
I wouldn't have gone back to his place
If I thought it was all going to end.
I tend, generally,
To reserve casual sex for my enemies.
I felt at ease in his homestead
Because of the way he said
'If you like you can sleep in the bed,
I will sleep on the chair over there.
And if the bed gets burned to the ground,
or the chair gets slashed up by bear claws,
I'm sure I can find you somewhere to rest,
What I mean is, we all have our floors.'
I was a heroine all night through
With a mountain to reach the peak of.
He sweetly whispered 'excuse the mess',
When there was no mess to speak of.
The whole event was romance,
Like history happening now.
Nostalgic sex viewed through steamy rose specs,
As awesome, as special as sacrificed cow.
And I thought to myself,
I could get off the shelf.
Please explain to me why he
Decided to try and not buy me.
It would have been great if it lasted,
never saw him again.
The fat bastard.

Added: 12.04.2010

Judges' comments on this poem

12.05.2010

I enjoyed the humour in this poem, but not all the rhyming seemed natural, eg "his touch would lead to atonement".

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