In black ink I uncoiled,
outstretched my wings across
the canvas of your back.

Made inseparable
with a needle's sting; a bond
of blood.

And though we can never come
face to face, in mirrors we meet.
Where from over your white shoulder

you catch the promise
in the red dot of my eye -

the day I leave you
is the day I breathe fire.

Stephen Bone

If you have any comments on this poem, Stephen Bone would be pleased to hear from you.