A Poem Is Like a Tattoo
English Rondeau
dgw
6-9-13
A poem is like a tattoo:
A mark on a birch bark canoe,
Flavor of yew berries and sweat.
The new pen-prick fades to regret,
Resisting attempts to undo.
Some are hieroglyphs, some Hebrew.
Some mumble, some menace, some woo,
Some glow blue like a TV set.
A poem is.
The news is, if you own one, you
Can't join him in the special pew,
Whose ink-free arm smoothes aiguillette,
Unmarred and unmarvelous. Bet
You approve this distinction. Me, too.
A poem is.
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