April 01, 2010

Tatoo of Shame

My right arm feels violated

By the market’s finest henna terrorists.

Forcefully snatching my wrist

(No! Not for me thanks!)

And delicately patterning it

With this foul smelling mud

That stings!

This intricate design,

They promise,

Will bring a husband

And babies

(But I don’t want babies…)

Before I know it, the sludge

Winds an elegant trail from

The tip of my little finger to my bicep.

Their work complete, they stand back

And demand the price

Of a basic hostel room for two nights.


I’m starting to think it looks pretty.

At least it’s no longer orange.


I love it. It’s beautiful.

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