Tattoos, hearts and armies. Such different images… or are they? They align in my newest poem, Dysfunctional Sweeping.
The dysfunction swept over your skin and
Tattooed itself in swirls I envied.
I chose to enlist in your army of corruption,
Only I needed your assistance with filling
Out the paperwork and deleting my family.
You colored over my own skin with hot
Wax that laid smoothly over my naïve fingers,
While your eyes dances with visions of
Tears you rearranged into a pattern of love.
When you expanded your puzzle, seeking
More fingers and ink, I began to realize the
Magnitude of my backspace.
You chose yourself, and I chose the army life,
But today my skin airs itself with a
Reflection that deposits no swirls and
No stamps of you.
©2013 Christy Birmingham
This is christyb, choosing my own circumstances and circumferences.