skeletons

the skeletons in my closet are named.
I have them alphabetically organized,
bones properly cleaned and attached,
names on display. i dissected each one
and assembled them in a line.  each day i
pull out one, and wear it like fine jewels
(crown on crown, hands on mine). I
continue throughout the day, the rattling
of teeth echoing inside my temples, joints
hard against my skin, scent of rot and
formaldehyde seeping into my brain.
these bones turn gray after years of
presentation, and I walk home hearing
my own body crack under the weight of
the calcium phosphate, my skin burning
at its touch. i eventually take it off and l
return it to its home in my small, hall
closet. i go to bed, exhausted, and I still
can hear secrets slipping through teeth.
they haunt through the night, until i wake
up in the morning to pick another to wear.