QUITTANCE FOR THE INK SLINGER
poetry by Jade Wallace
QUITTANCE FOR THE INK SLINGER
She carved a blue moon over my navel,
scattered dark stars across my ribs.
Working slowly into my skin,
she filled my silence with
words I have only heard in the mouths of lovers.
You take it so well.
I want it to be perfect for you.
It can be overwhelming; tell me if you need me to stop.
Lying by the cool window,
under the light touch of her hands,
the singe of a vanishing needle
did not even feel like pain.
Outside, afterwards, the sun was too much.
I went home and waited for night.
I wanted to climb a ladder of bones
to the moon,
sandpaper the craters of it
into shapes that would please her.