I focus on where the bones in my knees
contact with one another
They look like marrow filled plaster casts of birds bones
Like the masts of bottled pirate ships, in my mind they swing and glue pulls up the surfaces of the wood as you tear the bones out like how you gut fishes
There are sharp edges like the serrated edges of a shark tooth
Small dips where I can now curl and negative spaces are left silently empty are neatly darkened
Puddles of liquid velvet evaporate from underneath and leave the wooden surfaces speckled with sticky stringy lines of tiny alphabets, so tiny you can't tell if they come from our culture or our religion
I'd like to tread in bleached white cotton socks and feel the white fill up with red
These alphabets hooking onto the softened brittle fibres
I'd wait hours until the excess ink fell away and revealed the spaces
I'd let you place your hands between the ribboned surface, you could pull them apart, they would slide perfectly like a new key in a new padlock would twist,and I'd let you examine the utterances carefully
I'd let you place your hands on my bare ribcage so you could feel with your rough fingertips the plaster cast version, the pulse of my wooden heartbeat, you could see how the alphabet confetti has saturated it
I fold my arms and cup the spilling liquid red
I would store it in glass test tubes to be frozen
Then examine them under light as if the red were capable of chromatography
I imagine the freezing only magnifies the frost grated into my heartbeat cocktail