Intuition Is My Tattoo (for Sinéad)

There is a wolf
who stands on my chest
and howls,
sitting atop a barricade
of stacked metal—
a tower of cars,
each one a journey
to the center of earth.

Heart, lungs, ribs,
all housed by the glory
of skin,
I feel the sun on my forehead,
touch the contours
of shoulders, hips, feet.

This wailing song, a gift—
protector,
guardian spirit,
inner knowing.
Intuition is my tattoo,
a leather cuff reminder
of who I am.

An alignment of light appears,
spinning chakras glowing,
turquoise-blue orb at my throat—
my words echo from
a mountain top.