Open Poetry #37 |
My freind's tattoos |
smithdr Junior Member
since 2006-02-25
Posts 26 |
Jamie Tingley lived in a locust and, for Christ’s sake, he loved straight edged tattoos of sparrows, speared in cobwebs, spilling feathers on bloody elbows. On inner arms a golden crown, a tilted skull, clichés of roses with no temple to hold them – or him. No crossbones, just crucifixions. On cement runways we stood, knowing full well where he lived. And so goes the locust leaving inked-on memories on Jamie. On me. |
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