CONTACT E J CARO:
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+447931270806
@e.ancienteggtree
The ribbed hip bone winks and waters within a sunken socket.
My fat chafes.
When we dream, legs slither out of too-tight jeans.
Scuttling on delicately haired limbs, too many to count, across the bed sheet and through a crack in the door.
A scalding rash sears between our palms and gathers in the translucent webbing between our thumb and first fingers.
Pregnant and heaving with furred spores which catch at the dry rasps of our throats.
The arrows are organs which point nowhere.
Lungs heave, mouth sealed.
12 vertebrae and 5 ribs a side.
The fluid body remade though spell binding reveals as mutation.
The speculative form of what could be festers between the sinews of the familiar and ordered body.
In this textbook I think the diagrams are labeled wrong.
Between my shoulder and elbow are A and under my pubic bone is a throbbing C.
Help I think I lost B!
It must be by the river banks, between the slaughter waste and early offerings to by-gone beings.
My atlas tingles.
The great mapping spiral whorls, spined and venomous.
Finger pricked and blood boiled.
Catch us spread out on Grandma’s carpets, rearranged on her bed sheets.
Your knuckle glances at the rotten curve of my femur.
Skin folded and bunched by the edge I trip over.
Through a stethoscope our stomachs churn with converging currents - acres wide and decades deep.
Somewhere down I spy L5.
One of my legs is becoming scaled, the other shriveled thin beyond perception.
I can only grow a beard on one side.