Looking like schoolbook doodles, filling the space:
dragon swirling round a leg means what? Heart on arm,
dolphin on shoulder, mystic sign on left cheek?
We honour our tribal ritual but lack the language.
The urge to decorate, draw attention, say something…
we’ve nothing to say, it’s pop music for the skin.
We should say Calvin Klein or Nike, like our clothes,
or God, if that’s our designer of choice.
I could get “What?” tattooed on my forehead,
“Cheeky!” on the right glute. I could get wasted,
see what I wound up with in the morning,
after all, it only lasts a lifetime. What if I need a skin graft
on my face, taken from the dragon’s midriff?
There’s something I’m not seeing here, probably
– the usual – I’m taking it all too seriously.
Verses of Five 