By Kaitlyn Gutzke
draped around your shoulders
clinging to your bones?
You wear it so well –
what's the occasion?
I felt your fingernails
picking at the loose edges
grab it with your teeth
separate the flesh
from the skin –
do I taste okay in your mouth?
you can finally see my insides –
is it hard to look?
to realise the demons you wished for
on birthday candles and dandelions
weren't invited to my autopsy?
do you need a toothpick?
I have a way getting stuck
in the deepest of pits
of your teeth
your belly
your head
my own head
like a bad song from 2009
what would your daddy say
if he saw you cut my tongue from my mouth
piece by piece
until I can no longer sing your praises
without choking?
a 3am warning, “she's a good girl”
you hated that he loved me
but maybe he's the one who taught you
how to coax out a wild heart
just to dig your blunt teeth in
so you can feel something in your stomach
besides shame
but she can't be tamed
and her anger tastes like lead
you'll never know
that you can't wound me
because my grief and my
heart finish each other's
sentences blow kisses across
train tracks
whisper on pillows in the dead of
night and hold hands on the walk
home
my heart is already dust and
rocks in my favourite tote bag
crimson welts rising like tides
on my collarbone
i carry it with me, my grief
everywhere I go
with bits of my
heart and bits of
yours
that I stole when you weren’t looking
like loose grapes
like fireflies
like tadpoles
like secrets
nothing you do
would ever
collapse my knees
snatch my breath
twist my intestines
make me feel
like the rocks in my favourite tote bag.