debone my skeleton

my face is two rhythms;

one the reverend, gaping maw
parcelling teeth when i fuss
at my jaw, my hands like cruel
sailors stroke at bone
  or like the sun as it goes full-down
  on a toblerone.

they are sticky,
yes,
training my heart to be like my face-
like the stillness of rapture before
the crickets in the yard belch
and you are undone, or this way 
 this way son
to where the hall divides
and there are ghosts of us
striking matches in made up tents,
two-heart deep like how love should be.

later, with memory fizzling cold
i'd be facing a mirror
and slow-dancing
to my quiver lip, or jungle
beat as my eyelids
drift senseless back to you:

  with your trimmed sail mouth
  and wide ocean mouth
  your sunrise mouth
  and mouth of fish-scale


and heart of fucking slim bones ripping
through my rose blown cheeks and my fucking
heart is beating in my face so the bones
then rip through my heart and the sailors'
rum slides like tears across the gaping void
where my cheeks were once

and; fuck my  face  fuck my face
 fuck my face