Chelsea Welsh
Necrophilia
The gaping smile
of my collar bone is crowned
by two incisor shoulder joints
looking over him while he
thrusts beneath me.
His hands trace my spine,
fingers falling
one by one into the jagged
ladder rungs which he counts
as I count the minutes.
Hips hit against hips,
grinding bone while his hands
grasp at protruding ribs
stripped of their flesh
and muscle. Vulture.
When he is done
he glazes my breasts into
two empire biscuits.
Calories I cannot eat.
And before he falls
asleep. He wraps me
in a thick blanket pulling
me close. Softens my edges.
Skeletons, it seems,
are only good for fucking.
Chelsea Welsh is a Scottish poet, studying as a postgraduate student in Creative Writing at the University of Edinburgh. She also is the events coordinator at 50GS, a digital literary journal.