Delayed Flight
by David Allen Sullivan
A tree rose up her back,
wolves coursed over one shoulder.
It was her body
they decorated
but their sinewy life, emerging
from the white tank top
and black bra straps, called
to me. She was a stranger
hurrying past where
I’d been cursing fate,
how could I halt her fleeing form
and ask to see more?
But wolves seemed to wink
and roll as her shoulders walked
them through their paces,
and the tree stretched up
her neck to tickle her ears
with barren branches.
I have seen tattoos,
this was the …