Tattooist, that woodpecker
his bedazzled beak bounces ink in her skin
as clocks tick chocolate down her throat.
Salvador Dali dies in Figueres, Spain,
and clocks tick empty in her head.
(it’s almost time
the future falls back before eyes
deja vu )
The pierced artist of trunks chuckles,
laughing into negative space
spewing color with no intent.
Ink spreads Jonesy’s impulsivity across her shoulders,
she will love it when she’s old.
Beneath the tattoo artist’s penetrating beak,
she relishes colors’ crazy scent.
His bedazzled beak bleeds melting clocks
against her shoulders broad expanse.
Brenda Warren 2014