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Chelsea Welsh




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. 

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