Beside Herself

I clean my bones with fireso I can sit beside the absence of my body.I scrub my bones with grease,thrust my pelvis on top of my skull.I polish my bones with silt from a dumb river,let the joints float away.I build a tree out of my bones—leaves won’t bud, no one climbs it.

I erect a stage out of my bones for dancing,no one dances.

I plow a field for my bones, plant them,earth lies fallow.

I feed my bones to a mouth of quicksand,but the moon says, too full.