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INK

November 30, 2015

Ink is everywhere in this Café
pathetic menus in faux Italian
Del Norte Triplicate, USA Today
poems in this book of Pessoa
these notebook ballpoint scribbles
testosterone arms of a truck driver
but, ah, I browse the sweet chest
of the blond barista, dark tendrils
disappearing into her tank top
a line from Catullus on her forearm
& that dragon crawling up her leg
in red & blue fire can only be me
looking for a warm nest for the night.

 

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From → Poems

12 Comments
  1. Oh my. I love the last 7 lines. Super spicy! Excellent poetry.

  2. I agree 😀 this is amazing!!

  3. I agree 😀 this is amazing!!

  4. I have to say that ink trails can easily draw my blood .. wonderful temptation..

  5. Sounds like an interesting end of the night ~ Welcome to D’verse ~ Feel free to visit and comment on other poems at Mr. Linky ~

    Nice to meet you ~

  6. I felt like you were sharing a glimpse of something that just happened and you show the eye of a poet–carefully observing details.

  7. I love how the body becomes the place for all of those allusions and authors. Especially the Catullus!

  8. Your line “testosterone arms” conjures up my pet aversion, the current wave of tattoos. I might dislike them, but your clever poem puts them in a completely different perspective, telling this old fuddy duddy to open her mind!

  9. Nicely captured…

  10. You tell quite a tale in those few words. Love how you eye that dragon fire climbing up the leg and think of a “nest” for the night. Well done!

    Gayle ~

  11. Smiles.. all the ink
    in the UniVerse
    will never
    equal
    a
    finger
    print..:)

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