CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith for the Years of Winter… ©
Lest any folks who believe the Bible literally think the following poem has nothing to do with religion, I remind you of Leviticus 19:28, “You shall not make…any tattoo marks on yourself.” Or if you think certain words are not quite appropriate, either for a faith blog or Valentine’s Day…you are right, but prophets have always had to push the point to get warnings across to old people…
THE GIRL WITH NO TATTOO-A poem of warning for Val’s Day
There is a girl so lovely, a girl so passing fair,
a girl with ripe and rosy cheeks, a girl with golden hair,
a girl who has a form divine, with a voice like morning dew,
but she’ll never get a man for she’s the girl with no tattoo.
She doesn’t have some neat barbed wire or the Chinese sign for soup,
she doesn’t have a crucifix or the hangman’s loop,
she doesn’t wear a doggy’s face or a lightning bolt from God,
how will she ever get a man with no ink upon her bod?
She doesn’t have a chance, she doesn’t have a clue,
for she doesn’t have an image of a cute ghost saying Boo
upon her lower abdomen or on her throat so fair.
She doesn’t even have a kitty on her derriere.
You can’t know what she’s thinking if it’s not written on her ass.
You’ve got to see her thigh confession when she goes to mass,
You don’t know if she’s weak or if she’s getting bolder.
You don’t know if she loves her child unless it’s written on her shoulder.
She doesn’t have a smokin’ Harley or a skull and crossbones flag,
tattooed upon her biceps or where she’s gonna sag,
when she gets a little older and little children run in fear,
when they see the sloppy sloshing of her inked-on mug of beer.
She doesn’t have a blue bird or tyrannosaurus rex.
She doesn’t have a hairy angel or a scary witch’s hex,
She doesn’t have a running bird that slays coyotes and says beep,
How can she ever get a man when her beauty’s not skin-deep?
They say it’s in the eye of the beholder, where beauty does reside,
even a girl who is a Yooper can be a blushing bride, 
but it’s hard to see appeal on skin where no one drew,
how can there be a spot of beauty on a girl with no tattoo?
They say that ink’s an art form, that you’ve no soul without a tatt,
with no Cupid on your buttocks you’re just Cassatt without the hat. 
They say it is an art form, that those without it have no soul,
because upon your bum there are no cherries in a bowl.
Jackson Pollock would have made it, but he didn’t have a tatt,
so would that Picasso guy, but his biceps were too flat,
to show a vase of flowers, or even “Mother,” dear,
instead his puny arms just painted people strange and queer.
Yes, she is quite lovely, yes her life is really rich,
but she’ll never get a man without some art apprich.
She doesn’t sport a swarthy pirate on a coral reef,
she’s just an empty palette, she’s got no bas relief.
She does not have some purple grapes all clustered and all viney,
she is so completely without class there’s no art upon her heiny.
She may be a doctor or in a business that ends with Inc,
but she’ll not break the glassy ceiling unless she has some ink.
She surely is a lesbian or maybe something worse,
perhaps she is a commie, or a writer of blank verse,
maybe she’s from Kenya or she may be a Jew,
you cannot know the faith or creed of a girl with no tattoo.
She doesn’t sport a dragon, she doesn’t have a dagger,
she wears no colored crucifix or a likeness of Mick Jagger,
she does not display Bugs Bunny or near-sighted Mr. Magoo,
she’s the existential loser, the girl with no tattoo.
Her life’s so inefficient, how awful no one knows,
when she wants to show you how she feels, she has to put on clothes.
It would be much more effective for her to tell you how she felt
if she had an upraised finger forever on her pelt.
I must be a loser, I must be a nerd,
I must be the most pathetic man in this strange graphic world,
I must be a crazy fool who’s brain has gone coo-coo,
for I’m the Valentine’s Day lover of the girl with no tattoo.
I tweet as yooper1721.
1] Yooper refers to a citizen of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, UP. The idea that a Yooper girl might not be a blushing bride is because brides there must wear parkas and snowshoes at their June weddings.
2] Artist Mary Cassatt is always pictured wearing a big hat.
I started this blog several years ago, when we followed the grandchildren to the “place of winter,” Iron Mountain, in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula [The UP]. I put that in the sub-title, Reflections on Faith from a Place of Winter for the Years of Winter, where life is defined by winter even in the summer! [This phrase is explained in the post for March 20, 2014.] The grandchildren, though, are grown up, so in May, 2015 we moved “home,” to Bloomington, IN, where we met and married. It’s not a “place of winter,” but we are still in winter years of the life cycle, so I am still trying to understand what it means to be a follower of Christ in winter…