In a secret place at dusk
I draw myself out
over the cold stone.
With spit on my fingers

I lip my likeness onto
the cool limestone rock
daring to see myself.
Mucus maps my

puckered lips, my hoisted
hips tongue thumbing
dimple meloned

My spittle image
splayed on the smooth
polished bedrock
in the half light.

Parts of me dry up
before I am complete.
My faint lines air-brushed
to the dust.