Art Work
© By I.G. Frederick
The buzzing needle
penetrates my skin.
I can't see the ink,
but I feel the pain
and grip the metal
posts of the chair's back
until my fingers
cramp. The artist asks
me a question which
invades the torment
that will cloud my brain
until endorphins
kick in. He shows me
another color
and dismay requires
me to focus and
rethink the palette
I've envisioned. His
devotion to his
craft never wavers
and my trust in his
talent overrides
all my concerns. I
survive the pain and
the indecision,
but still I stagger
when, after two hours,
I stumble to the
mirror to admire
his bright creation.
