I’m the one who corrects the blurred
bodies, those grown uneven,
out of focus with
loneliness. or if mates
overlap—here a Noah’s
pair, there a hoax of incoherent
parts taught life. if you prefer
some peculiar
blemish to attract
her love, I’ll make a blue
kiss next in the hairy
armpit, or trace a little
cupid like summer love’s last
fly alighting
on a nipple, transpose
rudely done initials
where a heart should
be. I can copy on your own
body whoever you really
want: on your front her back
two-dimensional.
her sex arranged around yours—
you can put your pants on over
all four legs. no one will
know when you lean
against her in the sub–
way, or at night submit
both of you to careful
pleasure. in the mirror you’ll relish
the outline of her
buttocks on you
as you move but never
see her face tattooed face
down on yours.
—Dennis Schmitz, “Tattoo Artist”
Art Credit Blommers & Schumm’s Hector magazine portraits via It’s Nice That
