Smithereens Press Chapbooks 'Rootless' by Jennifer Matthews | Page 16

Bone Woman
I am your centre,
the scaffold
to which your meat clings.
I am
your ill-fitting
puzzle:
the jaw bone click and slip,
gritty grinding neck,
vertebrae twists and cracks
sore knuckles
and ankles
joint to joint
rubbed bare.
Within, holes
blossom,
consuming the calcified
lace of me.
Minute
to day
to decade –
soon
I will be
more
s p a c e
than skeleton.
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