Written in the last half hour as I thought about my tattoo experience this week. I may be editing this tomorrow morning since my tired mind has a different view of poetry than my awake mind does

pricking, at the back of the neck,
by a swarm of tiny bees stabbing
with little pointed behinds tightly packed
into cracks beneath the skin

scratching, like a sculptor scraping
away the bits that roughen
with metal tools sloughing off
marble skin revealing self

inscribing, on paper skin palate,
an incident recorded, unrevised
without eraser or editor
intent permanent by creator

rubbing, to heal deliberate wound
weeping heat, a plasma sheen
with smooth circles above pulsing lines
soothing over berated patch

Creative Commons License
This work by Sarah Holmes is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.

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One thought on “Inking

  1. I love how this poem is about the process of getting a tattoo, but could be about other things. Your comparison of the needle to bees is brilliant, and I love “sloughing off marble skin revealing self.” Brilliant line.

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