you're just death sans hood, baby

i watch you take your eyes
out of your skull
and place them on the table
reverently,
then step back and sigh,
crossing your arms
over your chest

cigarette smoke unravels
from your mouth
in long, knotty ganglia,
as though you are
exhaling your spine

i watch you
quietly and decisively
plunge your hand
into your chest
and pull your calcified heart out
and set it on the table

when it hits the wood,
it makes a noise
like a glass of whiskey
re-encountering the bar
from the hand of a drunk
and glitters
nastily
in the same way

your hair
turns suddenly white
with the effort of growing,
and you tell me
between mouthfuls
of your own fingers
how you've always
bitten your nails
to "the quick"

your wan smile threatens
to slide right off of your skull
and then makes good on its threat

you pull off your skin
like a set of rainsoaked clothes
and your skeleton shivers
like a windchime in a
dispirited breeze

i touch each one
of your vertebrae,
rap each one lightly
with a knuckle,
as though quietly
asking for permission to enter
as though quietly
begging you to stay