Just like that,

I curl inside the empty cavern between rib bones and hip joints, 

just like that,

my breath blackens the frosted car window,

my lips curve back into ivory ribbons.

I dress my body in chain-mail and lace up my boots,

just like that,

I dip my fingers in water and mold the clay of my cheekbones,

fit my jaw to the juncture of my throat,

weld my eyes into sockets.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,

when she points out the dull gray of my iris, 

when he peels back my skin to see cracked bones and rotted organs,

I slip mortar and paste between splits and fractures,

I slip back into costume. 

Ghosts in empty houses are safer than those in the city,

I carve my body out of wood from broken shutters,

I carve my body in the image of them. 

I’m stuck on a ladder with broken rungs,

so I have to tread lightly,

I’m stuck on a ladder with broken rungs,

so I have to choose eruditely.

The heat of his words tremble around my body,

I take needle and thread to stitch myself back inside this casing,

It falls between the spaces,

down.

Down the age stained wall, yellow with memories, 

down my fingertips it drips in puddles at my feet, 

down pillows I push out of the way,

to wrench bone from bone,

to break the osseous cage from around my body,

to break in my new face.