tender face

i use my femur for the soup bone
& flesh petals into water.
see how primordial i can get
in this gas stove's heat.
putting my hands over 
a blue fire. where did all 
my moisture go? i used to breathe
steam like a jungle. then winter came
with grandmother hands. i feed myself.
spoon carried in my teeth.
an egg where a future star shakes 
& begs to sleep ten-thousand 
more years. we should elope.
we should get married in 
darien connecticut where 
eternity is instanteous. 
i met a man who i wanted to
give one of my bones to. 
tell him to go home. dip it
into a pot of water. boil 
for as long as he needs.
there is not enough shared salt.
my fingers chirp like crows.
i take the harvest 
to winged altar. god has
the eyes of a scallop.
myriad blue & speckled. 
bathing in cream, i ask the cow
if she thinks i'm soft enough.
she is uncertain so pretends she
didn't hear me at all. 
touch me like a pondering of dough.
knuckles to knots. my stomach full
of dragonflies. the broth gleams
golden as summer squash.
i take the wooden spoon 
to the mouth in the garden.
brush dirt from his lips
to let him taste. he says,
"mmmmmmm" & i know i was useful. 

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