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Dave Bonta
ink is the first
forced temple
I sign and seal an agreement
nothing is as personal as handwriting
I make the state a copy
with great seeming art
Some people admire my signature.
I too do.
The sweeping strokes
The V like the prow of a racing snake boat
The aerodynamic slant to the right –
It looks like a Roman galleon
About to ram into the midriff of an enemy ship.
I love to scribble my signature.
In bits of paper, in office vouchers
In letters to the editor and beg to submits.
Every signature reflects my mood –
Angry, tense, happy, sleepy, sad, content
Confident, shaky, casual, sharp -
The swirls and whorls, the strokes and strikes
Wax and wane in the tides of my mind.
Every signature screams - look at me, look at me