I wonder if they ask her
about the bruises around her neck.
The ones just under the line of her jaw,
dark smudges of broken blood vessels
eerily resembling the shape of my hands.

I wonder if they notice
the way she stepped softly and wide
for days after I took her inside
of the tent last weekend
on that one rainy night.

I ponder if they see
the peculiar way she looks at me
or the lights in her eyes
when I say that she's
all mine.