by the bone

The skull was still a challenge, she thought, as she lay on her bed rolling her favorite rib between her fingers. This had been the debonair of the ribcage; its comma-shaped curve almost perfectly formed. A bass clef without accompanying dots. How bizarre, to have a favorite human rib. Only Mel’s bizarre wishes would allow someone like C to bury each bone like crops, selecting each like prime choice cuts for a barbecue restaurant. She set the rib on the nightstand beside her…continue reading.