The Very Bones of You
By M. Wilkinson
I crouched in the garden, my eyes on the lighted window. Her body shone ivory in his swarthy arms. Anger turned my stomach to acid and I retched. A year ago I was in his place. It had been my arms holding her, my hands fondling her breasts.
I’d whispered. ‘I love you. I love the very bones of you, my sweet, Sue.’ and kissed her eyes.
‘Mmmm me too,’ she’d answered.
A silver sliver of moon moved across the sky and was lost behind the trees. There came the roar of a car engine, gravel crunched and her lover was gone. The smooth shaft of the key, given many months ago, lay like an invitation in my palm. I mounted the stairs to her bedroom, and with fury adding to my strength, placed a pillow over her sleeping face. In the corner a clock ticked away the last seconds of her existence.
With her body tucked into the trunk of the car I drove home and placed her on a day bed in the basement. Emptied of rage I stayed at her side for weeks, eating only when faintness nudged me into action.
I stroked her flaking flesh as it swelled to a purple mass, kissed the jellied eyes. Cried as her dark hair loosened from her scalp and matted the pillow. I mopped the wax of her flesh as it melted into pools around her. Then she was gone, no more than an armful of bones.
The moon hovered above my shoulder as I placed her on a bed of autumn leaves while I dug a grave. When it was done, I held her tenderly one last time, and stretched along her skeleton as if we were making love.
‘I love you. I love the very bones of you, my sweet, Sue, ‘I whispered.
‘Mmmm me too,’ she’d answered.
- - -
By M. Wilkinson
I crouched in the garden, my eyes on the lighted window. Her body shone ivory in his swarthy arms. Anger turned my stomach to acid and I retched. A year ago I was in his place. It had been my arms holding her, my hands fondling her breasts.
I’d whispered. ‘I love you. I love the very bones of you, my sweet, Sue.’ and kissed her eyes.
‘Mmmm me too,’ she’d answered.
A silver sliver of moon moved across the sky and was lost behind the trees. There came the roar of a car engine, gravel crunched and her lover was gone. The smooth shaft of the key, given many months ago, lay like an invitation in my palm. I mounted the stairs to her bedroom, and with fury adding to my strength, placed a pillow over her sleeping face. In the corner a clock ticked away the last seconds of her existence.
With her body tucked into the trunk of the car I drove home and placed her on a day bed in the basement. Emptied of rage I stayed at her side for weeks, eating only when faintness nudged me into action.
I stroked her flaking flesh as it swelled to a purple mass, kissed the jellied eyes. Cried as her dark hair loosened from her scalp and matted the pillow. I mopped the wax of her flesh as it melted into pools around her. Then she was gone, no more than an armful of bones.
The moon hovered above my shoulder as I placed her on a bed of autumn leaves while I dug a grave. When it was done, I held her tenderly one last time, and stretched along her skeleton as if we were making love.
‘I love you. I love the very bones of you, my sweet, Sue, ‘I whispered.
‘Mmmm me too,’ she’d answered.
- - -
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