Oh, the yeasty smell from the pizza shop as I cycled past, en route to my Creative Writing MA course at Salford University, setting my artistic juices going; I penned this suggestive poem with bated breath.

Love Rising

What a difference a dough makes.
Kneading her
as if they’d never had that scorching row,
hoping she’ll rise
and rise again
after the next punching down,
this time playful,
grabbing by the handful,
her giving way to
plunging fingers sinking stickily

and being shaped and rolled
and tucked into lightly greased pans,
eased in by loving hands.
And oh, so delicately
rising once more
- some call it proving –
before the heat’s turned up,
a gaze at her perfect dome,
and sliding her in to bake.

What a difference a dough makes.