Today, I am writing on you,
my pen’s nib pillowing into
your soft skin, a tiny puddle
of ink, hardly more than a speck,
dots the hollow of your throat,
where my thumb fits, just so,
the skin soft and tender,
anticipating my touch.
My line curves from the corner
of your eye, to the side
of your mouth that quirks up
just before you smile.
Across the firm expanse of your
back, my signature, a spider's
web, intertwined with leaves and
vines, the faintest scar.
Then, where a flower might bloom,
I allow my pen to linger, and slowly,
carefully add your name to mine.
(c) 2018, by Hannah Six
Image: Prehistoric hand stencils at the Cuevas
de las Manos upon Río Pinturas, near the town of
Perito Moreno in Santa Cruz Province, Argentina.
Mariano (CC BY-SA 3.0)/Wikimedia Commons