My father used to have a piece of ground—mostly 
patchy crabgrass, with a few surprises poking 
through the tangle of dead stalks—clouds of Mariposa 
orchids, hibiscus, wide as my open palm, and roses. 
He’d stand there, watching it all grow. That’s how 
my piercings started. I had only this brown body. 
I’d watch the big dudes running at the track, tattoos 
on every patch of naked skin. Their muscles rippled, 
making wind blow through the roses climbing up 
their arms. I loved their power. But ink doesn’t really 
change you. Metal, though, might make a person 
more than just himself. With enough bolts and screws, 
sharp skewers, I’d be invincible. That’s why I lined 
those spikes up on my cheeks. And the beads? 
Before Columbus and his crew landed their ships 
on alien soil, my ancestors would carve designs 
into their faces, layer on some river mud, make 
themselves as beautiful as birds, their naked bodies 
gleaming in the sun. It scared the crap out of the 
Europeans. I’ve lost my tribe. These piercings 
may not make me beautiful, but people see me. 
They ask, How long did it take to get like that? 
Did it hurt? How do you keep from catching all 
those metal rings on shirts?  I ask myself what 
I will do when all the skin on my face and neck 
runs out. Already, the only open space is on 
my scalp. When there’s no more room 
for piercings, who will I be? 

Piercing man (Photograph, 27 February 2006)

Copyrighted © by Daniel Mauermann. All rights reserved.
Image appears here with photographer’s permission.

Publisher’s Note:

The photograph above is from Daniel Mauermann’s Flickr photo-set Cuban people (link retrieved on 24 December 2022):
https://www.flickr.com/photos/76596832@N00/sets/72157594230391757//

Robbi Nester

lives and writes in Southern California, where she is a retired college educator and an elected member of the Academy of American Poets. She curates two poetry reading series and is the author of four published books of poetry, including an ekphrastic chapbook, Balance (White Violet, 2012), and three collections: Narrow Bridge (Main Street Rag, 2019), Other-Wise (Kelsay, 2017), and A Likely Story (Moon Tide, 2014). She has four more manuscripts awaiting publication.

Her poems, reviews, essays, and articles have appeared widely in journals and anthologies, including among others: Artemis; Book of Matches; Cultural Daily; Dear Vaccine: Global Voices Speak to the Pandemic (Kent State University Press, 2022); SMEOP (Hot) (Black Sunflowers Poetry Press, forthcoming); Live Encounters; MacQueen’s Quinterly; Mindfull; Naugatuck River Review; Rhino; One Art; The Journal of Radical Wonder; Tiferet; Valparaiso Poetry Journal; Verse-Virtual; and Zooanthology: About the Animals in Our Lives (Sweetycat Press, 2022).

Robbi has also edited three anthologies: The Liberal Media Made Me Do It! (Nine Toes, 2014); Over the Moon: Birds, Beasts, and Trees, which was published as a special issue of Poemeleon Journal; and The Plague Papers, recently published online at Poemeleon Journal.

Poet’s website: www.robbinester.net

More on the Web: By, About, and Beyond

⚡ Dancing White Egret, ekphrastic poem by Robbi Nester after a photograph by Philippe Rouyer, in MacQueen’s Quinterly (Issue 14, August 2022)

⚡ Three Poems by Robbi Nester in Verse-Virtual (January 2020)

⚡ Law of Attraction, ekphrastic poem after Van Gogh’s Starry Night Over the Rhone, in Verse-Virtual (May 2019)

⚡ Night Tunnel, ekphrastic poem by Robbi Nester after a painting by Robert Rhodes, Philadelphia Night Train, in The Ekphrastic Review (21 April 2016)

⚡ The Locusts, ekphrastic poem after a collage of the same name by Mary Boxley Bullington, in The Ekphrastic Review (13 October 2015)