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 …