Temporary Tattoo

Used to leaving blue hairs behind me,
Inedible breadcrumb trail of the rooms whose
Air I've taken into me long enough to preen or
Sharp enough to tug.

This bloodless orange flake on the white sheets is new.
It occurs to me

There are only so many places I'll shed
These crinkling ghosts of new art.
It's one way to tie a story in a bow,
One way to cut leather for the binding.