my love the nerve endings are out bending on the clothesline in pairs
veins lined edge to edge perfectly square
find the pile of my molars over on far side of our kitchen counter
and don’t forget ms mandible she’d be shambles if you started without her
take a microscope to every organelle in my cells they would never mind
anything so you know there’s no malice in these bones of mine
none of this marrow beaten to bruise
at least not when it comes to you
alveoli tied in bouquets with blood vessels like meadows
scribbles of sonnets i’ve etched in cartilage and sung in ribcage echos
every muscle fiber, skeletal spur, and bleeding ounce of my being
a long winded love note yours for the reading
