He broke my spine down the middle,folded me between vertebraelike a grocery listand carried me to the mountaintopwhere the ground is too hard to dig.
He placed me face-downon a stone where I was no more blindthan I had been all alongto the ways he inflicted injuryand called it love.
Like any good body-breaker,he remembered to laugh.To not take too seriously the businessof dismantling me limb by limbas the vultures wings beat overhead.
I waited in piecesfor them to feast on my fleshlike a holy wafer–the body and the blood.I waited to feel their talons,the violent wanting of meI had come to know so well.
When the flesh is gone,let them have the bones, too,right down to the marrow.I want them to have it all,to leave no trace of me.Let my soul find a homehe won’t recognize.
Photo by Casey Allen on Unsplash