Massage

strong capable hands

palpate knots, knead away months

I breathe the ocean

into twisted agonies

muscle memories release

My Blood is Inked

soul, pierced, bled heavy

in black-crimson rivulets

dripping down my arms

sanguine streams converged pen-point

brazen skin stories tattooed

Trigger Tanka

my body, not mine

is communal property

man, with subtle touch

lays claim daily, ignorant

his finger’s on my trigger

 

(image: Matt Wisniewski)