Ink

Before it’s too late, I want to make a tattoo
for the world, a permanent amulet to protect
our blessings, a reminder of each thing that is good.
There will be animal pairs of course—who am I to argue with Noah? But more.

 Everyone in the world gets to choose
a thing that matters. So not just dragons
dolphins, hearts and butterflies,
but comic books, hot tubs, silky darkness,
smokey whisky, onion rings, stalactites,
sandals, sultry sex, cashews, avocados,
bicycles, a sharp knife, pie. This will not be
some tiny tattoo—an understated infinity symbol
on the wrist of the world, a demure
dragonfly in the small of the world’s back.

No. Ink will wrap the whole planet
in its own bodacious offerings, a full color
cloak the world can wear as long
as it lives, boasting its brilliance
across galaxies, prompting the other planets
to line up, because they want tattoos too.

Now it’s your turn. What do you want to add
to the world’s tattoo? Go ahead. Each of you.
Choose a thing you love. Choose a thing
so we never forget.