Dry BonesSometimes I replenish my whiskey bottles with water
And swirl it around. I drink up
To make sure I didn’t miss a single drop of that alcohol.
Diluted or not, I ache for it.
But not as much as I ache for you.
I would rinse you out and sip all of your insides.
Then I would drag your skeleton out of your skin.
Help me. Worm your way free.
I would jumble our bones together. Mix us up.
Not so we would be two with replaced bones.
No, I want us to have four arms, four legs. I want,
I want us to have two heads and a long twisted spine
Of vertebrate upon vertebrate.
I want us to clank out hollow sounds
When we come rambling along.
Our ribcages would be split and spread.
No longer cages, but wings of rib bones.
Your hips would jut against mine
And our fingers would intertwine.
Our skin would not go to waste,
Instead, we would tear them to shreds
And weave them together.
We could nest on them.
With all our empty bottles.