Tattoo

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

sandpaper-scratching

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.

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10 thoughts on “Tattoo

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