i write
on your page
slightly tickling
your skin
with a
white
f e a t h e r
dipping my finger
into the porcelain
inkwell—
so delicately
moist with
i n d i g o
i n k
my soft
strokes very
lightly caress
the most sensitive
creases
on your
p a g e
i take my
dripping finger,
full of sensuous thirst,
and autograph
some verse bites
on your back
c o v e r
and all night long
i keep writing
free rhymes
until you
drunkenly
fall
a s l e e p
no need
for more words
as smudged ink
reveals i am about
to lose a bird
of my own
f e a t h e r
so long,
writing lover
of mine—
here is one last
indigo ink
tickle
for your
g o o d n i g h t
p o e t i c
d r e a m s
LannaZee 