Fingerprints

Sarah writes poems

She dabbles her fingers
in his dreams – leaves
silvery smears on every
surface – trails his desires
behind her, like a
fox-tail robe. She smiles
the way a cat yawns,
unconscious of teeth,
no malice, nothing
personal, just that need
to toy a little.

A quadrille for De at dVerse. Our word is “dabble”

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