Black feather-shaped tattoo on the upper back of a person seen from behind, with a platinum blonde braid and a patterned wrap over one shoulder.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small dark feather tattoo on upper back

Back · Black and grey · Photo

A photograph taken from behind shows a small, dark tattoo on the upper back, to the side of the spine, shaped like a tapering feather or wing. The ink is solid black with little visible shading, and the skin around it is warm and evenly lit. The composition is cropped at the shoulders and hair, with a long blonde braid and a multicoloured patterned wrap in the foreground.

Back Feather Wing Back tattoo Braid

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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

Old Mrs Haddow kept the school handbell in her coat pocket for forty years, and when the thirtieth reunion came round she was the only one who remembered which hook the coats had hung on. The hall smelled of floor polish and cold custard. The card had asked everyone to bring something from the old playground, and most had brought photographs, which she thought was a poor sort of bringing.

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A crow came to the window while they were eating. It was a black one, with a long tapering feather at the tip of each wing, and it tapped on the glass until Tom Varley, who had once been sent out for telling lies about the stove, lifted the sash. The bird dropped a single quill onto the sill and went off over the playing fields without looking back.

The quill was dark and smooth, and when Tom picked it up he found he could not remember the speech he had been practising in the car park. He turned it over in his fingers. It had been twenty-nine years since he had let Ruth Pender take the blame for the broken window in the lower yard, and the thought sat in his chest like a stone. The feather seemed to weigh nothing at all.

Mrs Haddow rang the handbell once. The room went quiet. She told him a feather was only a feather until somebody carried it home, and she closed his hand around it. Across the hall, Ruth looked up from her plate, and for the first time that evening nobody pretended not to see.