Vivisecting you is sweet and architectural until I get to the belly.
Strangers crawl out and strangers are too intimate.
Sometimes they carry around old photographs of pets.
Sometimes I catch them shoveling rice in their mouths and then they are me.
I lay out your bones in a rectangular shape on a pink mat.
I handcuff your thick veiny hands to my chair.
Maggots crawl on top your face and they are all named Melissa.
I wanted two of your face.
I carry your bones in a bag to the cemetery.
The cemetery is in Amherst or Woodstock or another fake memory.
I do not bury the bones but sit with them tucked in my lap.
Yes I do love Autumn.
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