I trace my fingerprints left on your skin,
and watch the ripe return of swift blood cells
Flush back the burn. You twist your head to grin,
But lose your laugh, as my hand left marks compel
My fist to wrap your hair through webs and nail,
Your warm mouth tongues my thumb, my grip on hair
At once now tight, your head up lift’d to veil
The pain from skin too raw, and strain’d eyes bare
A fright revealed. Enough! I trace your back
Again, my tips a dance; five craz’d pirouettes
That trace the stars on freckled skin; the track
So like the sailor’s sky. Your laugh upsets
My lost drift thought of stars and sex and ballet,
But here, I know your skin like stars won’t stray.








This is one of my first attempts at a sonnet.

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