“Skeletal Man” by Christina Lu

by Christina Lu ’21

His elbows, wrists, knuckles,
like sharp peaks.
When we squeeze,
the mountain range drives deep
into my flesh.
It aches, but I try my best at the conquest
to quell the deepening pit in my own chest.

His ribs poke through his sides
like the tiles of a xylophone —
decreasing in size order,
blooming in full color.
But when I run my fingers across, I hear no music,
Only “Don’t worry about these old bones, aren’t they a nuisance?”

His eyes already hollow;
his head has yet to bare.
The tip of his nose starts to disappear.
At least his ears are still here.
He grins with the little skin
he has left.