Small solid black cannabis leaf tattoo on the side of a person's ribs, in a blackwork style.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small cannabis leaf on the ribs

Blackwork · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

A small, solid black cannabis leaf sits on the side of the ribcage, with its five serrated leaflets pointing outward from a central stem. The ink is a flat, uniform black silhouette with no visible shading or fine detail. The leaf is set against bare skin beside a black bikini strap, with denim shorts and a dark shoulder bag at the edge of the frame in an outdoor setting.

Blackwork Ribs Leaf Silhouette

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The hemp came up from the quay in bales that smelled of tar and cut hay, and Mrs Pryce counted every one before she let the carters go. She kept the ledger on a high stool at the far end of the rope-walk, where the light came in grey through the slatted roof, and nobody else was permitted to touch it. The mill had run on her father's habits for thirty years, and she meant to run it on her own.

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The mark was the one he had stamped on every crate before the owners sold up: five serrated leaves fanned from a single stem, black as a burnt match. The buyer from Hull wanted it planed off the wood. Ada told him a crate with no mark was a crate anyone could claim, and he went back to Hull with his hat in his hand and his opinion unchanged. She wrote the bales in her careful hand. Ten, Riga, sound. Six, Königsberg, damp at one end.

In February the snow came off the moor and filled the lane to the height of a man. A stranger knocked on the office door with a leather case under one arm, asking whether the mill still spun for the navy. He was young and wet to the knee. She walked him down the walk, past the coils hanging like sleeping animals, and showed him the crate by the stove.

He touched the leaf with one finger and said he had seen the same shape painted on a gate in Lisbon. Ada wrote his name in the ledger without asking him to spell it. Outside the snow kept falling on the mill roof, and by the time the lane was clear she had already ordered the next bales.