My dentist sees
A cavity.
ink on an otherwise clean tooth.
Tarnished and impure.
Something to be removed and I
Regret the sugar soda that put it there.
I touch my cheek, my lips and chin.  
But I don’t feel a thing.

I’m numb, all I feel is buzzing, no pain, only discomfort.
Drills of all sizes have their own vibrations.

Scratching against my clavicle, the artist’s hand is steady.  
My chest rises, falls,  with laughter and grimaces.

My father sees
A tattoo.
Ink on an otherwise clean clavicle.
Stained and immoral
Something to be removed, as if I will ever
Regret the rebellion that put it there.
Fingers dance across raised skin,
my body, a journal, my soul’s true home.