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You pencilled me into your diary with a question mark
You left it open on your desk
As if you didn’t know you’d take me home.
‘You can undress me,’ I said ‘but you can’t fuck me.’
You fell asleep face down across the covers.
Perhaps you slung an arm over my waist.
Light falls heavy – curtainless – on my back – ‘Was it you who [kissed me?
You make two coffees – find half a joint in the ashtray – forget [the milk.
I say – ‘You didn’t even take my belt off’ – You hand me a [cup.
Skin sleep-smooth – brew bitter-black – ‘I kissed you.’
Fresh heat whispered into my lips whitens my tongue.
The cup is too narrow, the spoon – to stir the sugar –precisely [wrong.
You pencilled me into your diary with a question mark
You left it open on your desk
As if you didn’t know you’d take me home.
About me:
Clémence Sebag is Londoner, she started out as a West Londoner, worked her way up North, then down South until all that was left was East. By day she works as a translator (she’s translating a French novel set in the Second World War), but she wants to be a writer when she grows up and everybody knows East is where creatives live. She graduated from Goldsmiths with a MA in Creative Writing in 2012. She’s had interest from several agents for the beginning of her novel which you can find here (http://www.gold.ac.uk/goldfish/archive/goldfish2011/novelexcerpts/clemencesebag/). She’s had three short stories published in The Erotic Review. She regularly writes book reports for a literary scout and these will soon go up on her brand new blog (http://clemencesebag.wordpress.com). She also dabbles in poetry and won third place in The Literateur poetry competition (http://literateur.com/inventory/).
Best place to find her: any literary salon around London. Failing which, you can Tweet her @clefanglaise (https://twitter.com/clefanglaise).