Christine Hamm

PEOPLE: A SURVEY

some people are led around on a leash, some people start small fires and wipe their fingerprints from the doorknob, some people chew their hand off to get out of a bear trap, some people lean so close to the stove their hair catches fire, some people shit in the public pool, some people refuse to get out of bed for a year, some people leave the Porsche running in the parking lot while they go for a beer, some people carry a ton of change in their pockets, some people have no pockets, some people are born with claws, some people are born with two left feet, some people are born with no heart and soon die, some people are born with no skin and live a long time but in agony, some people prefer blondes, some people prefer frozen shrimp, some people spank their children with an open palm, some people kiss their children with a closed mouth, some people sell their children for ten bucks, some people live in constant fear, some people live in Newark

INK INTO SKIN

the security guards at the airport
are all whispering about my tattoo
they ask me how long it took,
if it’s new, if it’s finished

at each security checkpoint
as I slip off my shoes,
my belt, as I unbutton
my blouse and lay back
on the conveyor belt,

they open my chest
and ask me about the bite
marks on the inside
of my ribcage, still

obsessed with my tattoo,
where did I get the idea,
in what city did it occur

they lift their pant legs,
their hems, to show me
their own tattoos --
hairy dragons curling up calves,
butterflies clinging to biceps

they sink their fingers into
the curl of my intestines,
divining my future, they pull
everything out, set it down gently
in the plastic trays

and tell me how beautiful it is,
my tattoo, how it looks like
a real knife and how it
calls to them, each of them,
with a thready, tender song