i carry your bones in my pocket
the smooth round ends
sharpened
into knife points

i want to spray paint them gold
but i only have mustard yellow

the ferryman only has 
one good eye anyway
i think about wearing
something slutty
then i wear nothing

mustard bones
aren't gold coins

he holds the boat still
i pretend i am clumsy
and trip
his one good eye does
not move from my left tit
i wonder what's 
wrong with the my right one

i hand him my bag of bones
he throws them to the side
points his bony finger
past the fog

i nod
his breath smells
like old attic
but i stay close to him
wishing i had worn clothes
wishing i had gold
instead of the condiment
colored bones of my enemy

at the shore of the dead
i lay in the cool black sand
bury one bone i saved
the ghosts gossip 
around me and suck
the warmth from my skin

while waiting for my death flower
to grow
i watch  ferryman's eye twitch
as he removes my payment
from the bag
he bites the bone
as if it is a coin

i pluck the flower
run to the boat
shove my left tit 
in his face
and ask him
if he sees a spider bite
the bone falls from
his mouth

then i kiss that empty
attic tasting space
where a mouth 
should be
i throw the bag of mustard
bones to the zombie piranhas
beneath the boat

now that the ferryman gives me free rides
i have a whole garden of death flowers
that i tend to
while singing him led zeppelin songs
i tell him he is famous
because he is so rich and scary
he laughs and it sounds like a roomful 
of people choking

i eat a flower
while he rows me back
to the living
he keeps his good eye
on my left tit
so i am not sure
where we are going

somewhere in the woods
we sleep on kindergarten nap mats
on a hard cabin floor

the mats are lined up in rows
i don't know if i am camping
or if this is yoga class
but the mosquito incense isn't
working

i itch all over
then ask the maybe yoga teacher
who barks orders at the front
if there is something better

she scoffs as i turn the packet
over in my hands
i don't know about that, she says
call the number on the back

i realize she isn't anyone
just mean

the room is full of bodies
then it is empty
i wake up too late 
every afternoon
aching from the hard floor

everyone falls asleep at
sundown here
and is gone by first light

i came here with my grandparents
my husband
but i have only seen them once
in some sort of group huddle
in the middle of the room
whispering with the others
that are never here
when i am

i hear voices behind the cabin
get out, they tell me
they are coming,
i ask if i should be worried
as groundhogs scurry past me

the man tells me their bite
only stings a little
the groundhogs are taking things
the mats
one of my slippers
a thin blue blanket

i hop around them with my bare feet
like they are hot coals
before joining the other campers
on the grass

i came here in a limousine
they said it was a vacation

the groundhogs drag 
everything i didn't want
into the forest
i want it now though
i want everything that is gone

i wonder if that's where my family is
i follow the groundhogs
feel the scratch of their 
curved claws as they climb
over my feet

one looks back at me
as if to tell me 
hurry up
something is coming 

there is nothing but shadows
here
shadow trees
shadow groundhogs

shadow people
like paper cutouts
rise from the dirt

see us 
hear us 
they whisper

there is no coming back from this
there is no coming back from this