Forearm with a botanical tattoo of red poppies, grey foliage, black linework sprigs of berries and a grey cat, mostly in black and grey with red accents.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Poppies and a cat on a forearm

Botanical · Forearm · Mixed · Photo

A forearm sleeve of poppies, leafy foliage and sprigs of berries or small flowers, with a grey cat partly hidden among the leaves. The red poppies stand out against black and grey shading, and the linework of the sprigs is clean and dark. The design wraps around the forearm and fills the frame, with a hand visible at the lower left and a purple glass object in the background.

Botanical Forearm Poppy Cat Foliage Leaves Berry Flower Sprig

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The cat would not go down the drift that morning, so Tom Ridley stood at the top of the shaft with his lamp unlit and waited for it to turn round. Its name was Grey Meg, though nobody in Hollin Row could say who had given it, and it went where it liked among the spoil heaps, where the red poppies came up every summer out of the black shale as if they had been sown on purpose.

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Tom's wife Ada had once told him that poppies were for sleep, and that a man who lay down in the fields came home with dust in his mouth. He did not believe her. He believed the cat. Meg crouched low in the leaves at the edge of the tip, her striped back nearly the colour of the slate, and she looked not at him but down the slope, toward the old workings the company had said were sealed.

The men came up behind him one by one, sooty and cursing, and they stood with him while the cat stayed where she was. Nobody spoke. A thin sound came up through the ground, like a door shifting on a hinge a long way off. Then the sprigs of berries along the path bent all together, and the slope gave way where the cat had been looking, a slow fall of stone that filled the old roadway to the roof.

They stayed on the tip until the dust settled. Meg stood, stretched, and walked back down through the poppies toward the row, and the men followed her in a line. Ada was at the gate with the kettle. She counted them twice, then she counted the cat, and she said nothing about sleep at all.