Tiny Tattoos

I wonder.

In the mornings

At my freckle bespeckles.

My teeny tans, my ginger spray

My place in front of the proverbial

Fan when

it

hit.

I wonder.

Was there a moment perhaps

On the genetic road trip

That meandering evolutionary track

where the path was reduced

to a sun-kiss

cul-de-sac?

I wonder.

Did that sweet double helix

Get herself all turned around

Find herself without direction?

Think

I’ll take my time,

Decide

Can’t see the finishing line.

My pigment is a figment

I’ll try myself a little of

either tint.

It’s neither here nor

there’s no race

to race

to race.

I’ll take these spots

On this flesh that adorns me,

as constellations

Of the star dust that sneezed us

These tiny tattoos.

These pinpricks

Of the colours

that bleed

Us