poem ten: sacred markings

Ganesha offers a lotus from this temple wall
above prayer cushions draped in tangled knots
screen-print splayed over black sheets. Cave
paintings of Bruce Lee and skulls in flames
remind us what’s to come; faery kin wearing
only their skin leer out, beckoning you in.

The mantra here has no words, it is the sound
of a lantern filled with bees, a reclaimed hive
for the creation of sacred markings, honey bright
the fizz-buzz of a needle tip, supernatural.
Instead of incense, the scent of disinfectant
clings, anointing your wrist – bliss. Blessed.

*

So. You might not have guessed, but I got a tattoo today. For some, it’s almost a spiritual experience. 😉

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