I see her ribs and say
I want to paint them rainbow,
to guide their luminescence into color,
away from the broken glow of light,
of white I can nearly see.

Her admirers are captives of these prison bars,
steaming with a reddish gleam inside,
trying to crawl through her spaces
and bulge from her sunken self;
they hate to stay still when she is moving,
dancing in clothes marked
CAUTION: Fragility among the agile.

They want to objectify her presence,
but she rejects them, flicks her fingers,
spreading them like spider webs,
sticking the glue of her tongue
to the inside of their mouths
while they forget in the lull of goodbye;
they breath and crack and sigh,
expressions of curiosity drifting
along the motion of their cheekbones.

Cramming their fingers between her sides,
stabbed by her protruding elements;
elbows, ankles, knees,
reminders of their gnawing consciences,
but she's drugged them into dominant submission,
nodding off to sleep between her bones.

I see her ribs and say
regret is for the rest of your life.