The sky is pulling apart slowly

In the end 
flesh slips easily from bone.

You and I, our skin was so tough, 
we thought we could resist 

the finger of the Sorrow-God  
poking for marrow, sliding 

into the middle of us. 
How often have we been wrong? 

I don’t fear being split wide, 
I’ve come back before 

from sundering. 
Do you ache more, my love, 

for the curve of my ear 
to cradle your dreams

or the hours we lost, 
tidying the hem of the bay 

so the pulsing tide 
could properly erase us.

SAMMY GREENSPAN

Sammy Greenspan’s  latest chapbook is Skin Hunger. Her work appears in Fuck Poems: An Exceptional Anthology and other collections and in journals including Nimrod, The Examined Life, In Posse Review, and Your Impossible Voice. She’s been a waitress, studio assistant, homeschool zookeeper, and pediatrician. She runs the Alewife Writers Workshop and Kattywompus Press (www.kattywompuspress.com).