Saturday, October 13, 2018

Writing on you (Day 633)


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, 
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