Body’s Prison Tattoo
The needle wriggles
like a worm
caught between the beak of a bird.
Blood mixes with forget-me-not blues;
of desire filling the belly of swallows,
once thought to carry
the souls of sailors to heaven.
Now these wings
on the back of Body’s hands,
part bone, part feather,
this ain’t no lie
these fists can fly.
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