Jolene's Marrow

The sun sets against walking caskets.
I breathe sweet tangerines, and hear
A whisper.

The music, the bass, it hums through me
Like the engine of a car
Rolling over my ribs.

Summer strangles us,
With its musky scent
And dying moths.

They float by,
Brushing my nose.

“I want to tell you something,”
I say. My breath hits your
Face, smelling tart and lemony.

“What is it?” you ask.

Hearts give out
All the
Time.

“I never meant to hurt you.
You must know that,” I say.

Skin chips like flakes
Of old paint. “Don’t,”
You pant. “Don’t push.”

We’re clasping, knitting our
Arms to each other’s like life rafts
In an ocean.

If I’m drowning you,
I’m sorry.

“This wasn’t supposed
To happen,” I tell you.

“No,” you say. Our breaths
Catch in each other’s throats.

Claws clean out the
Marrow from the bones keeping
Our
Heads
Up.

How did we get here? I think.
Oxygen becomes an enemy we’re
So desperate to please.

Our movements
Synthesized in artificial bones
Made to be
Broken.

We can’t move,
Can’t breath with the right nostril,
Or see with ears bleeding, and
Tears flowing thickly from our fingers.

“We were never going to make it,”
I say.

You look at me. I inhale what’s left of us.
Your thoughts creep into mine like cyanide.

I let our bodies fold like cards.
This goodbye is
Going
To
Kill
Us.