I'm trying, defying
these so called laws,
unzipping skin from fingertips,
shrugging away dead leaves
patterned into my thin exterior.
Dancing in my skeleton,
tiptoe tapping away from reality;
bones smooth and white and raw,
sanded to milky pale frames—
blending with winter treetops,
hiding in open spaces.
My bare skin is more than nakedness,
more than opened flesh and a pretty pulse;
it's dreaming and screaming,
running outside of my inner shell,
stretching out arms and legs indefinitely.
Without lips, kissing,
teeth bared in an awkward smile,
digging hips into the ground
as I shake myself in this skeletal dance;
I'm so perfectly thin and gleaming,
a wicked goddess in the moonlight.
But soon the sun awakens
and I crawl back to the place
where my outer self was swept away,
slipping sliding into my organs—
caught once more by crippling mortality.