I slice grief
down to the bonepull the meat off
with my bare hands
until I can’t wash it
offWill you let me
hold your head
in my hands
fingers still dripping?Will you
kiss the funeral
of my bodyeach weeping chair
catching rain
on the grass?I slice grief
down to the bone
then grind the bone
into powderAre you hungry for
the marrow of me?Can you touch me and
come awaystill clean?
To The Bone, Caitlyn Siehl
(via alonesomes)