Colour tattoo of a peacock feather pattern and an orange and red chrysanthemum across a person's lower back, above cream bikini bottoms.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Peacock and chrysanthemum on the back

Japanese · Back · Colour · Photo

A large colour tattoo covers the lower back, with peacock feathers in green, teal and gold sweeping up from the hip. A bold orange and red chrysanthemum sits below the feathers, with dark outlines and shaded petals. The cream bikini bottoms with red and black printed text partly cover the tattoo, and confetti is scattered on the floor behind.

Japanese Back Peacock Chrysanthemum Feather Flower

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The confetti came in on Mrs Haskett's shoes the morning after the pier wedding, and by the time I had the hall swept it was in the coat pegs, the stair runners and the dish of cold tea I left on the sideboard for the gulls' sake. Mother said we'd be finding it at Whitsun.

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Our lodger, Vera Lusk, had come to us in August with one tin trunk and a dressmaker's dummy wrapped in a bedsheet. She painted fairground signs along the front in summer and in winter she painted peacocks, on anything: the backs of brass trays, the inside lid of her trunk, once a bread board that Mother never forgave her for. Every morning she sat on the bench below the bay window with a jar of rinse water and a brush no wider than a fingernail, fanning out feathers that went from green to gold to teal, each one ending in its single hard eye.

The chrysanthemum she did last, and never where anyone could watch. She said a bloom wants finishing in one sitting or it sulks. Orange at the heart, red at the tips of the petals, dark lines where the shadow fell away underneath. I asked her why a flower that dies by November and a bird that never stops showing off should share the same tray, and she only said the peacock was for being looked at and the chrysanthemum was for keeping still.

On Friday I opened the front door and the tide had been and gone in the night, taking the paper with it. The step was bright with it, and somewhere up the road Vera was whistling a tune that had no end to it.