My Hand Is My Canvas

My hand is my canvas

My pen is my brush

Here it's no matter

If I scribble or rush

Saliva is turpentine

Ink washes away

Many notes overlapping

Or just one worn all day

Reminders and doodles

Come together, you see

No acrylic or gouache 

Just pen ink on me

A tattoo of the moment

That comes off with a wash

My hand is my canvas

My pen is my brush. 

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed