bodies:

I took the body, held it to my lips.

It was a miracle I could hold in my teeth.

Work my tongue over it’s flesh.

Every inch of quivering flesh was holy.

Anointed by my breath.

Not an object of worship, but a sacred font.

A place to heal, and I did.

Every wound covered in moss, 

sewn with lace.

The sound of high heels on linoleum,

louder than the heartbeat in my ears.

A flash of pain, white hot in the dark.

Then nothing save a slight exhale,

drifting off like dust in sunlight.