Unmade Bed

a gun to the spine
tossing vertebrae amongst the coils
spilling like shallow water
skipping rocks along the wrong side of the bed
twisted in the sheets, a browning ivory
that puts my skin to shame.

touch your fingers to my thigh
gentle limbs guiding the planchette
on a Ouija board of unanswered answers,
spirits attracted to death and disasters, crimes and emergencies,
and my freckles laced with sweat.

interlaced visions smeared on the wooden headboard
coaxing mute missionaries with no mission
to venture the stark, vacant reverie.
a splintered bed-frame piercing lunar pedestals,
perturbing lucid dreaming; now you have the reigns.

dragged by your hangnails to the edge of monochromatic sunsets,
it's this ravenous denial that puts this acrid metal
between my teeth.