Leather and Velvet

Robert Beveridge

To Cari Ann Fairs

Your voice of jewelled

citrus and cayenne

on the phone from Vegas:

“everyone thinks tonight's

their lucky night.” And you,

leather jacket stroking black

velvet, cherry hair

to cover it all, kind of lost

but happy beneath the lights

that never fade. I can see

the way the leather

of the jacket kisses the velvet

of your top, the skin beneath

with its blossomed faint flush,

a light, a freckled fire

that never dies.