Tattooed Man

 

I am a tattooed man

like my Uncle Jerry

 

I sat on his lap as a child

smelling tobacco and green soap

 

while I traced the curves

of his life and imagined

 

the secrets that could be told

if the stars could speak

 

through the sweat and blood

and dank air and feral heat

 

given off by fluorescent tubes

with their buzzing ballasts

 

and phosphorus emitting light

like the North Star guiding us home

​

*Originally appeared in 

Talking River Review