To free herself from bondage, On her back the first mark Do the thorns of this rose still Remind her of the weight she carried?

On the ankle, a butterfly Hovering over a daisy. Is this to remember those fields Of the past she had walked through?

A blue crescent moon because She howls as it rises. Do they Meet somehow, some of mine Arcing over the continental sky?

A dragon crouching on the curve Of her spine, it leaps and flares. As she moves. How can one hold Such motion between his arms?

Then metal entwined with skin, Is this to mark those places Where she wants to be kissed Till the softness begins to hurt?

• for Anna