I wear your name
 like the fading memory
 of a cheap tattoo and
 as I trace these jagged
 lines, curse the sloppy ink
 I am reminded of only
 the regret
 there is nothing
 here I wish to keep
 lest of all the grief

 2/10/2019 ©Debbie Berk 2019

Not sure where this poem came from, it isn’t personal, I have no tattoos and if I did it would not be someone’s name.

I don’t know, maybe because I’ve been thinking about my dad lately who passed away almost 11 years ago. His birthday was last month and he had tattoos, one in particular he seemed bothered by, it was no one’s name, just a round, dark shape that he was always trying to burn or cut out of his skin. He never said why or what it meant. On his death bed I touched and traced his visible tattoos including the strange circle that always grew back.

So yes, I guess maybe it is personal after all.

The title for this poem came last.