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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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AuthorMichelle Tinklepaugh Archives
June 2023
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