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by Tianna Grosch

The bones are always left behind.

I gather them together as if kindling in my skirt and smuggle them up the stairs two at a time, creaking under the weight.

Weight of your bones.

I polish each with care until they shine like perfectly cultured freshwater pearls.

Imperfections make them beautiful.

I fondle glistening femurs and rib bones stacked neat like accordions.

Teeth take longer to glimmer. They clack against each other as I shake one fist, morbid music jangling from my improvised instrument.

Finally I organize them, each polished bone set in proper shape, until you are almost whole again.

Tianna Grosch is writing a debut novel in the woodlands of Pennsylvania and received her MFA from Arcadia University. Her work has previously appeared or is forthcoming in Ellipsis Zine, Who Writes Short Shorts, New Pop Lit, Crack the Spine and others. Follow her on Twitter @tiannag92, and tiannag2412.wixsite.com/creativet.