<div class="line">I practice touching my bones</div>
<div class="line">The pearly hillcaps of my knees</div>
<div class="line">The dips and valleys of my hips</div>
<div class="line">Early mornings, I roll onto my back</div>
<div class="line">And lay silent and still</div>
<div class="line">Except for one prodding finger</div>
<div class="line">Which travels up the flat planes</div>
<div class="line">Of my stomach</div>
<div class="line">To the bottom</div>
<div class="line">Of my ribs</div>
<div class="line">Once there I touch every single one</div>
<div class="line">Admiring the way the bones roll under my fingers</div>
<div class="line">Like the bars of a steel birdcage</div>
<div class="line">They’re mine</div>
<div class="line">All mine</div>
<div class="line">So beautiful and fragile</div>
<div class="line">That sometimes I forget how to breathe</div>
<div class="line">I lie there in half-darkness</div>
<div class="line">Frothy blankets hiked up to my chin</div>
<div class="line">And think</div>
<div class="line">This is what it’s like to be dead</div>
<div class="line">I imagine flesh peeling from my shoulders</div>
<div class="line">All those extra pounds</div>
<div class="line">Going going gone</div>
<div class="line">So my bones can finally jut</div>
<div class="line">Into the mattress</div>
<div class="line">The way they’re supposed to</div>
<div class="line">Like swords or scissor blades</div>
<div class="line">My hands wander down to my thighs</div>
<div class="line">Where I roll an inch of skin between my fingers</div>
<div class="line">Dreaming of my bones</div>
<div class="line">In all their matchstick glory</div>
<div class="line">Flashing for the world to see</div>
<div class="line">Outside, the sky turns honey-amber</div>
<div class="line">Roiling, rotting</div>
<div class="line">The smell of baking pavement’s ripe in my throat</div>
<div class="line">I shrug back the covers and stand up.</div>
<div class="line">Breakfast is on the table</div>
<div class="line">But I don’t look at it</div>
<div class="line">Don’t breathe it in</div>
<div class="line">And I most definitely don’t sit down</div>
<div class="line">Or else I’d have to suffer through the feeling</div>
<div class="line">Of my thighs oozing</div>
<div class="line">Against the seat</div>
<div class="line">Almost like pancake batter</div>
<div class="line">Or pizza dough</div>
<div class="line">And then Momma walks through the doorway</div>
<div class="line">And she sees me standing there</div>
<div class="line">Sees the way my t-shirt hangs from my shoulders</div>
<div class="line">I focus on the monster orchids</div>
<div class="line">Craning through the open window</div>
<div class="line">Not on her</div>
<div class="line">Anything but her</div>
<div class="line">She sets another plate on the table</div>
<div class="line">And stares at me</div>
<div class="line">The heat is suffocating</div>
<div class="line">I shift a little on the floorboards</div>
<div class="line">Feet sticking to the wood</div>
<div class="line">I wonder if I should turn and leave the room</div>
<div class="line">I wonder if I should say anything at all</div>


Traditions

#CarryThatWeight

Calavera

<div class="line"><i>Get up, get up.</i></div>
<div></div>
<div class="line">Let the sunlight fill your throat, your eyes, swim under your skin</div>
<div></div>
<div class="line"><i>Unless it’s storming. Then eat those clouds.</i></div>
<div></div>
<div class="line">Your eyes, streaky as fallen stars, glassy bruises that have just begun to melt away</div>
<div class="line">Your arms, willow branches, have been wind-whipped to the point of breaking</div>
<div></div>
<div class="line"><i>Be very careful, or you might just fall apart.</i></div>
<div></div>
<div class="line">The other girls’ lives are no more than hologram hearts and smiley-face stickers,</div>
<div class="line">Breathing candy-colored questions like they want to eat each other up.</div>
<div></div>
<div class="line"><i>Turn away now and don’t look back.</i></div>
<div></div>
<div class="line">Curl that smirk into the palm of your hand like it’s all over for them</div>
<div class="line">Like everything’s done for the sad, giggly girls who are oh-so breakable</div>
<div></div>
<div class="line"><i>They actually want to be shattered.</i></div>
<div></div>
<div class="line">Try not to cave in now</div>
<div class="line">The moon’s sweeter than sin and you belong out underneath it</div>


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September 19, 2015Mad WorldMackenzie Tatananni

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September 19, 2015Mad WorldMackenzie Tatananni

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Calavera by Mackenzie Tatananni