Black script lettering tattoo of a four-line rhyming verse across the upper back, between the shoulder blades.

Four-line script verse on upper back

Lettering · Back · Black and grey · Photo

Four lines of black cursive script read Roses are red, My name's Dave, This poem makes no sense and Microwave, set in descending lines across the upper back. The letterforms are clean and even, with fine strokes and soft shading where the lines thicken. The plain pink wall and posters behind the skin keep the focus on the lettering.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Pat, I'm writing from a lay-by outside Swindon because the van's kettle has packed in and I need something to do with my hands while I wait for the AA. You'll remember Dave. Dave who sold us the hot tub that leaked, Dave who once said he was a poet because he'd read a greetings card twice. On Saturday he stood up in the back room of the Crown with a pint of bitter in one fist and recited the four lines he'd been polishing since Easter.

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Roses are red, my name's Dave, this poem makes no sense, microwave. Nobody clapped. Sheila from the darts team asked whether the last word was a command or a fact, and Dave said yes, and that was the end of the evening for everyone except Sheila, who has been unbearable about it ever since.

The real trouble started on Monday. Dave went down to the parlour on Cricklade Road with a folded copy of the poem and asked for it in the sort of script you'd find on a wedding invitation. The woman who did it had clearly been briefed by someone sensible, because she offered to fix the spelling and he refused. He said the mistakes were the point. He said a poem that knew what it was doing would have been written by a solicitor.

He showed me the result at the car park on Tuesday, turning sideways so the morning sun caught the ink. It is very neat. Every letter stands up straight like it's been called to the front. Then he asked me what I thought, and I said it made perfect sense, and he looked so pleased that I've been wondering all afternoon whether I've made a terrible mistake.

Love to the girls, Jen.

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