...we come apart.

one is a wishbone
licked clean.
pulled from each side
tender tender
she snaps in two
unequal parts,
limps the rest of
her days away,
white and brittle as bone.

one suddenly empty morning
another, sealed for years
in sausage casing,
slides out of her skin.
she lands red
and meaty on the fine china.
they breakfast over her
mumbling how well she's
held up, considering.

a row of angora soft
and baby blue
unwinds quietly
in the corner.
no one hears
her woolen voice
rubbing against the knitting
basket, unraveling
stitch by stitch.

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