After the Sun Rose
Poor Wind and I - we rode all night - until
the sun rose up and faded his tattoos
into blurred lines and he was gone. I still
sport ink where no one sees - the reds and blues
have soaked into my skin - I'm unrefined
but hide it well. No one can tell that I've
been branded once or twice. Colors survive.
The flowers and the flesh are intertwined.
I avoid the desperate men in mid-life need.
Their bikes are bold but they all seem the same.
I've left behind the sugar, smack and weed,
and Harley's just another trademarked game.
I've rode and I've been ridden - I'll still ride -
I keep my hidden bitch tucked deep inside.
Laura is a transplanted Midwesterner who now resides in Alexandria, Va. with fellow poet and writer, Dan Halberstein and their two slightly insane kittens. Laura has had poetry appear in The Susquehanna Quarterly, The Hypertexts, Folly, Yellow Bat Press, Solares Hill, Pebble Lake Review and other assorted poetry magazines.
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