Black and grey dotwork tattoo of a flower inside a large triangle outline on the inner forearm, with smaller dotted triangle and teardrop shapes above and below.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Flower in a dotwork triangle on a forearm

Dotwork · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A large open flower, likely a peony, sits inside an outlined triangle, with its petals and foliage built from stippled dots and fine shading. Small filled dots, a dotted triangle above and a solid teardrop below the main triangle frame the design. The tattoo is in black and grey on the inner forearm, set against a dark sleeve on the left and plain skin on the right.

Dotwork Geometric Botanical Forearm Flower Peony Triangle Dot Teardrop

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The pass closed on the Tuesday, and by Thursday the snow had buried the lower step of the inn so completely that Mam had us going out through the scullery window. I had been counting flakes against the glass for no reason I can still name, and that was how I noticed the man stamping on the step with a tin under his arm.

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He wanted a bed until the road cleared and would not say what was in the tin. It was wrapped in oilcloth and tied with string, and he kept one hand on it all through supper as if it might get up and walk off. Mam said no animals in the good room. He said it was not an animal. It was three peony roots, packed in earth from a garden he would not name, and they had to go into ground before the first thaw or they would rot in the box.

With the yard frozen iron, I carried the tin up to the attic and broke the seal. The wax had run down the lid in a dark drop and set hard as a bead. Inside, the earth was damp and smelled of rain. I tipped one root into my palm. Its skin was freckled all over with tiny specks, like frost on a pane, and where the lamp did not reach they went blacker than the soil.

We planted them in a clay pot by the range. In March, when the road opened, the man was gone and had left no name, only the tin on the sill. Then in April a green spear came up, and one morning a flower unfolded the size of a cupped hand, cream at the heart and dotted like a sky before rain. Mam called it a fool's flower. I still keep the tin, its seal round and dark as a drop of ink, above the sink.