She walks along at a decent clip

The snow whips her hair

And stings her face

Like the tattoo of a wasp

being drawn, wings spread

across her cheekbones.

But she would rather imagine

it is the five o’clock shadow

of her lover


her face as they kiss.

As she walks he approaches

His face, with his time-expectant growth

Lightens the wind’s swirl

And caught up in his embrace

The tattoo of waspy stinging snow

Succumbs to naught.

10 thoughts on “Tattoo

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