Visions of The Wolf
by
vision_wolfe


Sound-
Like cymbals crashed
Against my mind's
Eager eyes.
I can hear you,
Panting, breathless
Hissing with need
As my hands,
Small and burning,
Trace tribal tattoos
On the taut graceful canvas
Of your lean and
Trembling body.
Were those markings
There before
I stroked them
Into being?

--Kari Diabo
August 2001

Vision Wolf, who hears the drums wherever she goes
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