my bones decay
slowly.
a cobweb spins
in and out,
in and out,
pulling bones
closer, tighter,
snapped.
i am a ghost, i
am the dust of
a burnt-out star,
collapsed,
collapsed,
collapsed.
i am the corpse
of a child, i am
thrown out,
used up,
and death drags
his feet behind me,
the angels turn
their backs and
hang their heads.
and i spin suns
out of dirt,
tapping my feet
and breaking
all my fingers.