With jackhammer gun, and chisel, with bucket
of ink and rubber boots, with hose and soap
and stubborn will, they tattooed themselves
on the palm of their giant lover’s left hand
the huge fingers lashed down
the wrist and arm lashed down
and still how their lover’s hand
jerked and trembled, how their lover
gnashed and wept, tears hanging
from their jaw like oriole nests
in hours in days of trembling blood
of shudder and cry, they finish and mop
the brightly colored wound. They look up
into bright brimming eyes, slow nod, bitten lip.
They lie down in their own outline to rest.
They lie down there to wait for it to heal.
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