Carve Me Up and Stoke Me

I need a new tatt,
a new tude act,
slink of that loathsome sting
circling my big-sass breast
like a nettled snake’s slither.
I need it resplendent and royal,
bloody barbed wire trapping
my mammary gland in violet,
a violent sleeve fending off feeders.

Hidden from my children, my tattoo
breeds power, protector 
of no-longer-theirs nipple.
I need you to balk at my tatt
and walk away weakened, taken
aback by me, femme feral—
only to return risking barbs
to ravage my breast, 
titillated by its wiry coronet.

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Mary Johnson-Butterworth, a poetry opsimath, began to write "serious" poetry a few years ago after a lifetime of composing rhyming tributes and invitations for friends, heroes , and family. She was a founding partner of an image enhancement/marketing firm. Mary has been published in both Literature Today and The Birmingham Arts Journal.