An Ode to Tattoos

An Ode to Tattoos

I like the way you have doctored your body.
I like the way, when I read the slow curve of your hips,
I can also read the script in your head.
In swirling black letters, it reads: Swing Through Life!
I don’t know what it means, but I’ll swing through you,
if you know what I mean.

On the top of your thigh you’ve drawn a portrait of your dog,
the one who is dead now. He will be there to pet
whenever, forever.
I like your thighs, even that one.

On your left wrist, it is written: Infinity.
Or, rather, there is a symbol I have come to learn
means infinity. And it is written right there
on the thin of your wrist!

When I look at your figure, naked,
it is preferred, I wonder
what kind of seeds you must bury, deep
under the thick of your skin
to get bouquets like that.

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