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His Bones

Everywhere she goes,
She carries his bones in a
Scarlet velvet sac.
His hands a wind-chime,
His skull a flower pot, His
Spine framed and hanging.
Every night she sings his
Song, sorrow giving life to
Otherwise flat notes.
A shrine adorned with
Coffee, candy, and cigars.
She prays to her saints.
With his foot in her
Mouth, she dreams of red roses
And his meat on hers.

Posted May 26, 2010