Idle fingers pinch perfumed skin,
pull it taut and splotchy,
try to touch the angular body
beneath. I undress my bones
in the bathroom mirror and watch
them scrape together.

I kiss every condyle and crest,
pucker and press so gently
because no one else can with my lips.
I drum tips across ridges,
trace them down my cage and out
along my hip because I love the shape
they make.

I point my toes like dancers do
and linger on each osseous inch,
work my way from bottom to top
until, my god, the collarbone.

I have known its bulge but to see it strut
between blade and breast is to learn
that all can break. I tell myself
I am not whole but I am here.

# # #
Laura Wilhelm is the assistant managing editor of a medical research journal. She enjoys drinking tea and contemplating unstable subjectivity.

Photo: Janko Ferli?