Seasonal Fling

Seasonal Fling

A poem on the seasonality of lust by writer Naoise Dolan

By The Fem League

You warned me very fairly that it was to be

a fling, that you’d be off before the cherry

blossoms had opened and that you’d left

a large chunk of your heart in another country

anyway. It didn’t stop me falling for you, but

I feel I did it with a restraint I would not have

otherwise exercised. I never took your arm in

public and I turned away when I wanted to

smile, as though discretely spitting out gum.


You said I’d come at the wrong time, that it

wasn’t me but the breeze that brought me in.

You probably tell them all that, but I’ll never

have to meet them and so can find it special.

Really your compliments are nothing if not

ecologically sound. They’ve rumbled against

a thousand eardrums. You’ll recycle them

until they degrade quite naturally.


Naoise Dolan is a writer and poet.