The black swirls across his chest
Cut like rope down his back
And bleed into the skin of his arms
Like melting water.
They lead to messy scrawl
Denouncing wealth
And government
And order
Like a speech written
On his apple-white arms.
Lower down
Hidden by cloth
Mythology is told
In vibrant colors
Racing past his hips
Into tribal tracings
Printing his legs.
Lower
Lower
Vines curl around his calf
To the back of his knee
Where a blank rose lies.
And around ankles
Lie a hyperbole
A simile
A metaphor
A cliche found on skin
At every corner
Of the earth.
At his foot
There is flesh enough
To fit an Odyssey
And so it does
Balancing on the edges.
The randomness
And chaos
On the canvas
Across the body
Meet to create
A portrait
Of a man.