Spectacle: Possession

I am always burying something:
cardinals with shattered wings,
orange peels, smell of your dress
as it dries on the windowsill.

You come to me bearing
poppies, birds and glass,
a carving knife.
Your body a hieroglyph.

You want me to whittle you
down into an amulet;
a tooth necklace to
wear as a token.

In the kitchen’s carnivorous light,
you and I are too much alike;
the skull’s opalescent curve,
milkweed smelling skeleton,

bones tattered as lace.
Like lightning. Electric.
When i move you carve yourself out of me

humming the mean reds
and the Sunday blues.
Sing say the birds.
Sing say the bones.

— Simone Muench


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