It was late, of course, and the glow of the light
illuminated the dark shadows in the corner of my room.

Sitting with our limbs entwined
sipping on our second glass of wine,
we were discussing in our usual tired eye manner.
I watched as you pensively considered reincarnation.

“Maybe a blue jay or a lazy panda”, you said laughing
“or rather a busy otter or a black lab”.

I got quiet as I contemplated this idea.
Not sure whether I’d want to come back as an animal
or even another living thing.

While you raised your glass to your lips
I raised the question to myself and began to wonder
what it would be like to return as one of your ribs.

To be with you all the time,
perched quietly beneath the soft weight of your breast,
riding along under the soft fabric of your flannel shirts.

Maybe I’d return as your favourite rib,
if you even bothered to count,
which is what I did when you fell asleep that night.

The bare of your chest rising and falling,
gently firming and unfirming the shape of your cage,
hearing the slow of your breath as you relaxed.

My legs grazed the length of yours,
my fingers doing that crazy numbering thing
choosing which ribs I would like to perch
my reincarnated self between.