Luxuriant Saturday

An afternoon shower. Clean sheets 

and fresh pyjamas. The book I'm reading. 

Cushions to prop me up, half-sitting.

Raisin toast and coffee on the bedside table. 

My cat lying close beside me, purring.

Then the cat vacates, as I'm joined

by one of my favourite men. 'I'm having 

a little lie down,' I say. 'My dear,' says he, 

appreciating all the details, 'You're not 

just lying down – you're luxuriating!' 

We giggle, as he wickedly suggests 

I tell my girlfriends how my luxuriant event

was enhanced when a male friend joined me ... 

by phone of course! I inform him it's really

a threesome: one girlfriend too, via tablet.

We do love each other, though not 'like that'.

He tells me how to fill my spine with light

and send it out to the world through my crown –

and also what to use to clear my sinuses,

and things to be aware of when I set up my new telly.

Linda sends me a picture of her cat, which is

curled beside her on her bed, purring. She too

is having a lie down, with coffee and cake. I tell her

James calls it luxuriating. She embraces the word.

I compliment James on his use of language.

Linda's cat, Sarabi, in the photo she sent me.

I'm linking this poem to Poets United's Poetry Pantry #350