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The Slut with the Slipknot Tattoo

from Loudmouth: Page and Pub Poems by Michael Botur

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One for the forgotten, troubled women who love us.

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The Slut with the Slipknot Tattoo

The slut with the Slipknot tattoo
from Palmy or Paraparaumu or Waiuku
spends Sunday afternoons
straightening and bleaching her roots
She ain’t immune,
(the tramp with the Slipknot stamp)
to Facebook feuds
or scrapping at netball with that skank who stole her true
love, her dude. The bootgirl with the Slipknot tat has a two
year-old to a ginge in jail for GBH. He texts from a new
number every month. Tenancy agreement’s due for review
she begs the landlord for a three bedroom.
Baycorp makes her move to Timaru
They creep up her neck, the blue
letters etched on her neck, FTP, a hundy an hour for tattoos
while the Meridian Energy bill went unpaid, overdue. Ramraid vans fat packed with Nu-
rofen used to pay for tickets to Devilskin,
Crusty Demons. Dropped out of her degree partway through
Her cuzzies babysit when she’s caught up in family court.


A personal trainer from Tongatapu
is tapping that but he’s too Latter Day Saint to play with her kid. She guzzles Vodka Cruiser, watches Dr Phil afternoons.
Loves occasions to change out of her hoody, puff perfume.
After the baby she changed shape like Betty Boop
Every wedding, there’s the same group
She’s closed three emails; restraining order renewed.
Another overdraft overdrew, stuffs her tooth
brush and yearbooks in the boot. Moves to Manawa tu
She’s last on the catchup list, same old shit, she’ll be on the DPB or doin admin in a caravan for a Fulton Hogan crew
You can’t remember how yous met, she was just always in the back of some ute
you spewed on the same rugs growing up, stained the same party buses, played kiss-catch, she cut up the oranges at every Marist match or used to
She don’t vote, or watch the news, hard to relate, but with
with morning tea Coruba in you and a ciggy on the deck she’s happy to goss about Form 2.
She knots your tie, says you look good in a suit
She’ll still be here in twenty years, ain’t goin anywhere. Sister, whanau, family to you, and if you didn’t know the soul inside this chickadee she would simply be
The slut with the Slipknot tattoo.

credits

from Loudmouth: Page and Pub Poems, released March 7, 2021

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Michael Botur Whangarei, New Zealand

Michael Botur is a New Zealand poet and fiction writer of European heritage. He is author of ten books and has won a bunch of bigshot writing awards.
'Loudmouth: Page and Pub Poems' collects 15 years of spoken word verse from one of NZ's most dynamic young poets. Perfect for anyone who loves the personal mixed w the political, a little bit of hip hop and plenty of attitude.
www.nzshortstories.com
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