Robert Funge

TATTOOS

I have a friend who has tattoos
of a skull and crossbones on her arms,
and sandpaper scars, and down her spine

multicolored butterflies; a tender lady
who talks of redemption, and often
washes my pain away.

.

Sometimes, I am my father,
who thought a laugh worth any price
if paid by someone else,

or my mother,
weeping the morning long
for no reason she could think of.

.

All my tattoos are inside my skin,
of Mom and Dad, and caterpillars
down my back. My scars

don’t show, but when I speak
you hear my father, and my mother
when I can’t. Sometimes it seems

that tender only enters me
when paper words escape
the silence of my pen.

–from Rattle #22, Winter 2004

§ One Response to “Tattoos” by Robert Funge

• Claire Mikkelsen says:

  December 12, 2012 at 7:40 am

  I love this poem. I’m always gratified to read anything which allows one to see how people have hidden parts which they maintain under their public masks, which are often widely divergent.

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