The First Time in Her Room – by JIM GIBSON

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The First Time in Her Room


(Onetwothree)she whispers


Gently in my ear



The spots

On my



I’m lost in her counting


Gazing up:


            Pale pinks’re moist, rose reds surrounding




              Her breathed words on my cheek


              Her voice playful, discrete


Feed me my own imperfections



She looks at me

    With dimpled grin and rolls back

Arm straight up, under head

She licks her teeth


Still smiling

And I roll over, back to her

  To say how great

   Everything is

About her


       In a muted haze


                           Of constant clichés


                 Lust tickling at love’s hand that wanders



Jim Gibson grew up in the feral plains of England in an ex-coal mining village, Newstead, where the lack of employment was overshadowed by the grand home of the poet Lord Byron. This juxtaposition could have been the trigger that started him on his literary path. He is currently the fiction editor for Hand Job Magazine, where he tries to encourage the lesser voiced truths of our society.


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