Tattoo Anniversary

Some days
bury themselves in skin,
tribal patterns of a happily ever after

an old man’s skin will
try to stretch.

events are inked into your being
long past years they last
provided you

names of the dead
outlived by a mile;

wisdoms of
the time compiled in
Eastern characters and devil’s

Their naivete makes me

I’m older
and confess I stopped tracking
four leaf
clovers in the wild.

Old errors of a
child, spurning the
rank and file,

like the longest trials had
come to pass.

That stupidity gets a
little laugh,

but the beauty attached to
them shines,
encapsulates this youth
of mine.

On a notebook of flesh,
just four
breaths long,
my mother’s sacrilege,

ten years


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