We are all bottom bags of bones,
What’s a soul in this fishlocked port?
Goodbye is the only response.
for skeletons that get laid.
Buried in this earth going ocean.
Bones have souls too.
Ours do not disappear when skin
and muscle rot. Marrow breathes.
water locked inside a hard casket.
We yearn against dryness,
against thirst. I kept her lips
wet, wished she would awake.