Three Tattoo Poems

Reminder

My memory is faulty and that is okay.

I have always lived all my life this way.

In the summer of twenty nineteen I went to Italy.

Two weeks, two friends come with my tattoo memory.

My Rose

My Italian rose will be forever with me.

It brings new people in,

And reminds me of old ones as well.

She is my start to my story

That will grow in inventory.

Tattoo & Me

The sound on the needle gun does not scare me.

I lay there absently.

While he works acutely.

When I look up there is a beauty.