Untitled - April 11, 2002

What begins as a mild touch
against the unsuspecting,
is a subtle reminder
of the many nuances
that rule our lives.

Every bit carves away
at pale stone
until it becomes
an undulating ocean
of blood red
and bright crimson.

Every welt raised
rubs against smooth silk,
resting lightly against
scarred flesh.

The surface twitches
in response to the passing breeze,
aching for some relief
to this nascent mixture
of pleasurable pain.