Brunette Turned Indigo

I sang a song for a girl
while painting her in oil
low and heavy blue notes
a cadmium jazz sad melody

Bronze flesh became ashen
Brunette waves turned indigo
I caught a girl Observing
a memory of grief

Her song became my own
and then I stepped away
beheld the portrait of a girl
All in one piece when broken

Seven and a half stone

Clavicle to scapula, road map down a ribbon
Fingers over solid intercostal waves,
Hello old friends
Iliac crest, your razor ridge
is a chipped and scarred reminder that She is still within.

Ulna, Radius, pisiform, five inches round
delighting in shrunken anatomy
sinew and flesh fading
while memories float to the surface
she steps-

again, recalibrate.
again, recalibrate.
again, recalibrate.