| The Honey Land Review Spring 2009 Volume 1, Issue 2 |
I’d never done it. This little one on my upper arm when I was eighteen— and now it’s turned green and sags down to my elbow. I remember her then, the first person I knew not a soldier or a longshoreman to have inked rebellion across her skin: and though hers was a butterfly no larger than the tip of my little finger, its existence multiplied by my inexperience equalled wildness and danger, a biker in leather and chains, eyes rimmed with blackest kohl. Now to my daughter, two days after her birthday: I want to show you before you find out somewhere else and get all crazy. She turns her back to lower her shirt and there, from one shoulder blade to the other, a pair of wings large enough, should she wish it, to lift her into a cloudless sky and carry her away. |
Tattoo Anne Britting Oleson |
ANNE BRITTING OLESON supports herself by teaching high school
English in the mountains of Central Maine. She has been published in such
journals as The Valparaiso Poetry Review, The Cafe Review, Cimarron
Review and many others; her chapbook, "The Church of St. Materiana",
was recently published by Moon Pie Press. She is a graduate of USM's
Stonecoast MFA program, and is a founding member of Simply Not
Done, a women's reading, writing and teaching collective.
English in the mountains of Central Maine. She has been published in such
journals as The Valparaiso Poetry Review, The Cafe Review, Cimarron
Review and many others; her chapbook, "The Church of St. Materiana",
was recently published by Moon Pie Press. She is a graduate of USM's
Stonecoast MFA program, and is a founding member of Simply Not
Done, a women's reading, writing and teaching collective.
| Photo By Javier Infantes |
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