forbidden / by Britta Badour

fond facial features
my thoughts

a wet day 

wounded by wondrous walks 

"Take your eyes off of me," 
those eyebrows say

I can't, I nod-  
such a scrumptious distraction
the way the forehead wrinkles
under an umbrella of rotting
fruit and

the willfulness to get lost

but ain't it a shame:
sometimes the tease is more satisfying  
than the edge you take off