He asked her to hold him to her lips,

  but she refused –

       had learned to fear that flesh.

Instead, she took his body

 and drew around its shape

    on flesh-pink silk,

then took diamond-sharp shears

    and cut around each curve of nail,

    each fold of skin,

each rise and fall.

She hadn’t meant to take such care,

but when finished,

                 it was exquisite,

and more beautiful than

        He.

She held it up, and still could see

light dimpling through it –

     made pin-prick hazy.

So safe it seemed, she folded

      It around herself,

Let its light touch

 run over her skin and bring

  rippling shivers down arms

    and back.

So light it was, it could not hurt.

But it hid – and hid him –

- and she felt nothing

as he reached out to her through it –

And drew open that pale and

shivering skin

   in line after line of vivid, burgeoning

               scarlet.