Blue Sharpie

Soak my arms

This supple skin is taut

That old familiar lick

Pointed tongue with pleasure brought

Into my world

Sharp, bright perfume

Marks gentle night 

Bold midnight blue

Her mark I lead

With wrinkled hands

In her concede

A simple plan

Hypnotic high

Jehovah's dove

In faded line to line to line

I've come

To crave her rigid frame

To worship once again

My felt-tip tongued Athena

Paper partial without stain