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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
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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 |
AuthorMichelle Tinklepaugh Archives
June 2023
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