Out-take as a Dream of Children


             

You say marrow             I say dress

marrow             dress

marrow             dress


You say cephalopod

I say triceratops


You change colors faster than a chameleon

while scientists debate over my horns and frills

and I wear my face to prom

my prom of the three horned face


I promenade at prom while you scrape bones

along the floor. This floor is made of bones.

This floor is home. This floor is home.


You jump out the window into the ocean

where every seventh wave crashes whiter to the right

along the ropes we’ve set out to measure them


and you can hold the rope with one of your eight arms

and I can face the window with my three horns


and they can make my face a tiara

and your arms a dress


that clings to bone.


You say marrow             I say dress

marrow             dress

marrow             dress


You say squid I say marry

squid                             marry

squid                             marry


Nautilus           cuttlefish            octopus


I want to die     I want to die in your eight arms

and be carried into the bone floor

your bone floor

your floor of bones

your arms of lace

facing me in my tight white dress

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