“Sentinel,” oil and metal leaf on panel, by Steven DaLuz, 2011. Used with permission.
my grandmother has hate tattoos
carved into her arms
goose-stepping numbers marching
wrinkled, onion-paper flesh
human ash and cattle cars
dying now, she points to my wrist
the secret symbol of Tibet
nestled in the space of Destot
a Buddhist prayer, i whisper
om mani padme hum
the needle’s sweet buzz offered
blood-specked scab and Revelation
i wear my ink with pride
she secrets hers away
beneath long-sleeved shirts
go, i urge her, aching
her breaths come in gasps
amidst beeping sentinels
iv poles and machines
her eyes furtively seeking death
will i be reborn? she asks
clutches my wrist tighter
i nod, hoping the next life
is without the ink
of ovens and smoke
Erica Orloff is the author of over 20 novels for adults, young adults, and (as Erica Kirov) middle-grade readers. A native New Yorker, she currently resides in Virginia.
