by Arden Hunter
Ode to my tattoo artist
we are on day two and your back is hurting / your assistant brought you a brace / you tell me it’s nothing as you’re wrapped up immobile / I lie to you about the pain of hour ten
my skin swells as you traverse my soft spaces / you race the bruises that bloom in your wake / I meditate on the slashing of cells / you roll your shoulders annoyed and impatient / a model of my terrain on your mind
we break when we’re broken / muscles involuntarily twitching / you smoke scratch and stretch / I rub at my eyes / walking is harder now but I walk to the mirror and adrenaline surges as I see who I am
art is reclaiming this body that has been trampled by many / art that I sparked but fans out from you / I can stand to live in my limbs again and as I settle I’m grateful / so grateful / for the way your spine aches
blots spread over dry tissue paper / my ears hold remnants of songs sung by quick-crack needles / you sang along as you scratched the skin away / revealed what must have been long buried beneath
when the transaction is over my words are a stumble / unnecessary as you already know / you’ve showed me your collection / connection / we have both fought back fire on the table / we both have tattoos of light in our eyes
I will live loud and for as long as I can / shocking people with colour and crisp black lines / I will inhabit this space that we co-created / bright testament to the sweep of cramping hands
Arden Hunter is an aroace agender writer, artist and performer. With an eclectic range of interests from the horrific to the whimsical, the theme tying all of their work together is an inexplicable and unconditional love of the ridiculous beast that is called “human.” Arden has words and art hosted and upcoming with Cinnabar Moth, The Bear Creek Gazette and Thi Wurd among other places. Find them on Twitter @hunterarden.