Tattoo
Tattoo
The challenge today is to write a poem that includes images that engage all the senses, being as concrete and exact as possible. Invite the reader to see, smell, taste, touch, taste and hear.
This morning I had my second tattoo,
After a gap of twenty years,
I felt I was ready.
For the first, I went with a friend
Who took me to a tattooist she used
In the busy heart of Swindon's shopping centre
In a parade of nondescript grey concrete shops.
The parlour was full of eager customers,
Flicking through lever arch folders bursting with designs
Their conversation buzzing along like an echo
Of the incessant buzz of the electric needles.
At home, when I had decided upon a swirl of ivy
Following the curve of my left breast,
I had failed to anticipate it would be so public.
When it was my turn, I perched high on the red vinyl chair,
On display, the sharp taste of terror in my mouth
Flinching as the needle burned into my soft flesh
Watching the hands on the clock for the best part of an hour
Gritting my teeth and pretending to be somewhere else,
Anywhere else, hardly daring to look in the mirror
Or meet the tattooist's eyes.
When it was done, I zipped myself away
Paid, and left as quickly as I could.
The second could not have been more different,
Hand poked, no machine.
I'd met the artist the week before,
In her home, over a cup of coffee at her kitchen table.
We'd talked about designs I'd found online,
Tried out variations, got to know each other.
Today, I found her in a serene white room,
With a view of pale pink cherry blossom against a blue sky.
I chose to lay on the massage table, the pillow under my head
Covered in sheepskin fleece, soft against my face,
Steaming black coffee waiting on the window sill
In a mug saying "Keep calm and eat cupcakes"
Filling my head with its bitter aroma, and sharp taste.
We chatted easily about our lives, our hopes and fears
Joked about the sound of the needle
Popping as it exited the toughened skin on my foot.
She apologised for the times she neared a nerve
When I flinched involuntarily.
When it was done (two and a half hours had flown by)
She massaged aloe into my foot,
The long smooth strokes wonderful after the short sharp poking.
We embraced to say goodbye,
And she thanked me for trusting her.
© Copyright 2018. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved
The challenge today is to write a poem that includes images that engage all the senses, being as concrete and exact as possible. Invite the reader to see, smell, taste, touch, taste and hear.
This morning I had my second tattoo,
After a gap of twenty years,
I felt I was ready.
For the first, I went with a friend
Who took me to a tattooist she used
In the busy heart of Swindon's shopping centre
In a parade of nondescript grey concrete shops.
The parlour was full of eager customers,
Flicking through lever arch folders bursting with designs
Their conversation buzzing along like an echo
Of the incessant buzz of the electric needles.
At home, when I had decided upon a swirl of ivy
Following the curve of my left breast,
I had failed to anticipate it would be so public.
When it was my turn, I perched high on the red vinyl chair,
On display, the sharp taste of terror in my mouth
Flinching as the needle burned into my soft flesh
Watching the hands on the clock for the best part of an hour
Gritting my teeth and pretending to be somewhere else,
Anywhere else, hardly daring to look in the mirror
Or meet the tattooist's eyes.
When it was done, I zipped myself away
Paid, and left as quickly as I could.
The second could not have been more different,
Hand poked, no machine.
I'd met the artist the week before,
In her home, over a cup of coffee at her kitchen table.
We'd talked about designs I'd found online,
Tried out variations, got to know each other.
Today, I found her in a serene white room,
With a view of pale pink cherry blossom against a blue sky.
I chose to lay on the massage table, the pillow under my head
Covered in sheepskin fleece, soft against my face,
Steaming black coffee waiting on the window sill
In a mug saying "Keep calm and eat cupcakes"
Filling my head with its bitter aroma, and sharp taste.
We chatted easily about our lives, our hopes and fears
Joked about the sound of the needle
Popping as it exited the toughened skin on my foot.
She apologised for the times she neared a nerve
When I flinched involuntarily.
When it was done (two and a half hours had flown by)
She massaged aloe into my foot,
The long smooth strokes wonderful after the short sharp poking.
We embraced to say goodbye,
And she thanked me for trusting her.
© Copyright 2018. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved
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