Thumbtacks

Pin my ribs apart.
Excise my heart
and fill me with dirt
before you sew me back up.

I will not identify you.
The sterility of my throat
does not allow me to speak.

I have swallowed bleach.
Now my organs are as dry and white as bones
and the serving platter of my lungs
holds a variety of disinfected keys.

Vivisection is a bore
when the patient has already been gutted.
My previous appointment did not leave very much behind.

In my stomach
you will find my telephone
and the twelve missed calls I’ve had
since I left home.
Do not bother extricating it.
I don’t want to be found.

My black market body is full of canopic jar trinkets.
Take what you need and leave your coins at my feet.
I have doubled the fee for the next in line.
It’s a closing out sale, and everything must go.

Elizabeth has led a very strange life. That is why she creates the things she does.