CRIME Poem: Tattoo your L-O-V-E on Madoc Street, by Eleanor Knight-Jones

If I am the girl drawn adorned with thorns, see me.
If I am your keloid scar, anaesthetise me.

If I’m the tap that drips out of sync to your
steady steadfast slow breath, teach me.

If I’m the serpent strangling your calf, I’ll suck poison –
venom on my tongue – an impure art. Feed me.

If I’m the callus on your thumb catching skin –
A shot of rum for every pass, soak me.

If I’m the hungry dog days curled on your bed
for the scraps I’m fed – don’t parade me–shoot me.

O, how I would bark and piss and spit! – the true fight
against the cowards’ word in verse on your fist. Hit me!

If L is for your gaze, then you must be a tiger –
this scar reaches deeper than my jugular. Eat me.

If this needle blunts, promise me, you’ll carve
my name on our Sessile tree—Eleanor, deeply.