Bones

I have to go back.

I have to keep searching

For something alive

Among the dead.

I am yet undecided

How to arrange

Her bones.

I want to conjure

The dark red throbbing heart.

Regrow her hair and teeth

The way they used to be.

Her legs are in my hands,

Cool to the touch

Like bottled milk.

Better, perhaps, to leave her alone,

Unfeeling and without question.