Hyacinth and Rue

For none but those who write a certain way.

Not my usual fare, but a spot of fun.

---

I peel off the old skin, 
To the new, still kin,
Each fragment slips away, 
Thrown on my bedroom floor. 

Your shadow still clings 
As my naked body sings
Reflected in the mirror
Hung on the waiting door.

The smell of your voice
Still faint upon my tongue, 
The haint of your fingers
Still ghost along my ribs. 

I gather my bones, 
Break them back together, 
Hide the cracks in heather,
Grown on the tombstones. 

And slowly—Oh, slowly
With hyacinth and rue, 
I wear a new body 
Unclothed of you.