| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Darren Swift on 07/07/10 at 08:14 AM I adored this, from the sense of the patronising and condescending aura coming out of the tattooist through to the wonderful imagery forced into our minds as the requested tattoo invokes the Y incision, silver tables and the cold clinical atmosphere of the autopsy room.
I love this. Well done.
D |
| Posted by Morgan D Hafele on 07/07/10 at 04:06 PM sounds like that artist a sharp dose of reality. |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 07/07/10 at 06:41 PM They say the first cut is the deepest. Once there is one it is sometimes followed by more. Good write lady. I hope they heal. |
| Posted by Paul Lastovica on 07/07/10 at 11:34 PM i've imagined the tattooist facial response in several ways after a few reads. Once confused; once humored - humbled, perhaps; or concerned. I keep wanting to be a fly on the wall at that tattoo shop |
| Posted by Max Bouillet on 07/09/10 at 01:31 AM Man... I really feel awkward sporting a butterfly with rainbow wings and a prancing unicorn (it looks more manly than described). Well, not really. ;) Great read and lesson about gender expectations. |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 07/11/10 at 01:25 PM A short but chilling horror piece. Nothing like a conversation between a mortician and a cadavre. Well done Linda! |
| Posted by Stephan Anstey on 07/14/10 at 05:40 PM That's awfully fascinating. I'm going to be thinking about this for a while. |
| Posted by Glenn Currier on 07/16/10 at 01:39 PM Such a personal choice and statement. I have often wondered about the mental gymnastics involved in the choice. Still traipsing about looking for the meanings in that last stanza. It was easy until I arrived there. Thanks for this thought-provoking piece. |
| Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 02/19/11 at 01:12 PM what I love about this poem, what remains with me post the taking it in is the quality of it that I cannot touch with a ten foot pole which is always the role of a good poem to retain its mystery long after the reader wearies of wielding its scalpel, cutting, cutting, trying for some semblance of a deeper understanding. in the final prognosis there is nothing to comprehend about a good poem, only that it transcends notions and comprehension and makes one feel beyond the beyond. |
| Posted by Roger J Kenyon on 02/17/12 at 04:54 AM Incredible is all I can say. Thank you Linda.
|
