(This is some loosely connected riffing on The Skeleton Woman story as presented in Women Who Run with Wolves )

The bone collector finds my scattered bones.
And places them in a pile.
Everyone somehow still here.
Not a piece missing.

Will you untangle me?
And fit my pieces back together.
Have they ever known the right form?

The artist dusts the fragments.
Leans over them like an archeologist .
He know roughly where things go.
And has a keen eye for how things fit.

The hours it took.
To place the pieces.
How many bones are in the human foot? The hand?
26,27.
The tarsals and metatarsals.
The spine .
Each vertebrae looks similar.
It takes awhile to arrange them 
In the correct order.

And what of my wings?

Do you know the words to the song?
The one that makes the bones tell you their long buried secrets?

When you are tired you rest.
I wonder if your balf formed skeleton in the closet bothers you?
It’s sockets are empty holes.
But they seem to stare at something?
They bore straight through the wall, through your body 
And see what you cannot see.
Your luminous soul.

This can be unnerving.

I creak when I move.
All the cushioning of life has been devoured
In death.

In the darkness I watch you breathe, listen to your heart beating,
And seek your light, your warmth.
I am drawn to it.

In the silence of the night
I hear the beating of your heart.
And watch it pulsing throughout your body.
My hand to your chest.
The rhythmn of life.
The pulse running underneath all things.

Your pulse reverberates through my bones.
To where the marrow used to be.
And there is where it starts.
In the long bones.
The first spark taken from your body.
The softest tissues in the hardest places.
Stem cells start beating and building blood.
From a single undifferentiated remnant.
Mesoderm, endoderm, ectoderm.
Blood, skin, nerves.
Parts from a single cell.
Water, moss, sunlight.
My garden grows from deep underground.
From deep within my bones.
Flesh reimagined.

You have seen me in my bones and nothingness.
your fear turned to curiosity and plurplexion.
and my bones grew flesh and warmth.