Back and upper arm tattoo of rainbow-coloured angel wings in a neo-traditional style, photographed with the arms raised.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Rainbow angel wings across the back

Neo-trad · Back · Colour · Photo

A woman with her hair in a loose bun raises both arms, showing a large pair of angel wings tattooed across her upper back and extending onto her upper arms. The feathers are rendered in bold black outlines with smooth colour shading that moves from yellow and green through blue and purple to pink and red. The wings are centred on the back, with the figure's face not shown and a plain window behind her.

Neo-trad Back Upper arm Wing Angel wing Feather Rainbow

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The pigeon loft at the top of Tabor Row had been Emrys Pugh's since before the colliery closed its second shaft, and on the morning the cage came up empty of his brother, Nell found him sitting on the coal bunker with a tin of maize and no appetite. "They'll not let us down today," he said. "Not with the gas reading the way it is." She sat beside him and counted the birds on the wire: blue bars, a red check, one dun hen the colour of wet slate.

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Her mother had told her to keep out of the loft, since feathers carried dust into chapel and the minister would notice. Nell kept them anyway, in a biscuit tin under her bed. Each one she had found in the lane after a flight: a grey wing from a kite-hawk, a green-black tail from a jackdaw that had nothing to do with anyone. Emrys had said the colours only showed in the light. She had not believed him until the afternoon the sun broke through the smoke over the tip and every feather on the lane shone like a puddle with petrol on it.

At half past three the whistle went. Nell ran with the tin under her arm, past the lamp room and the women with their shawls drawn tight, and found her father come up blackened to the eyes but breathing. Nobody else came up with him, not for a long time. She opened the tin on the cold step and laid the feathers out in a row, yellow first, then green, then the blue of the hen's underwing and the purple of a pigeon's neck, until the row bent into an arch over the pit yard.

Emrys walked up behind her and stopped. "Where'd you get those?" "From the lane," she said. "Same as always." He knelt and touched the reddest one at the end of the line and said nothing, and by dusk the women were coming out of the gates with their lamps. Nell kept the tin empty after that, and nobody asked her to fill it.