Swallow - Excerpt

I found her in the garden, surrounded by my skeleton. My ribs, a clamped-shut jaw. Her fingers white-knuckling my moon-bleached bones. She doesn’t raise her head, until I am close enough to touch her. I want to touch her. She’s not wearing anything, and her skin is an eruption of nerve-endings. Her eyes are frantic. Fluttering, pacing, glimmering-ghosts. She is unfocused. Kneeling in fresh soil. The earth pooling around her. I’m caging her in. I’m holding her hostage. She’s still. She’s pacing. She’s looking at me, but not. Eyes glassy. Spectral stare. Staring, but not. I want to touch her. She presses her face between my last two, true ribs – T6, T7. She opens her mouth. Staring, but not. Her tongue is shining, too red for this world. Her tongue is made of rose petals. Her tongue is licking my bones. Not moon-bleached. Sucked dry. Expertly cleaned. Her red roses are tumbling around my sternum. She is my sternum. She’s eating me from the inside. She’s stealing the meat of me. She is licking her lips. Salivating. Staring, not-staring. She’s pouring out ghosts. I am losing time.

“I haven’t been able to sleep.”

The tonguing ceases. There is wet glittering at the corners of her mouth. She nods.

“crows?”

It echoes across my bones. Rattles my innards. Feathers kiss the inside of my mouth. Wings beat and float around inside my windpipe. They’re trying to escape. Her voice clangs against my internal organs. Resounding cacophony, clashing through costal cartilage. Roses bloom from the spots she touched. Thorns caressing my veins. Symphony of growing sounds. Growing blossoms. Growing birds. She’s flourishing. She wants out. I break the floating ribs – T11, T12. They splinter away in shards. They’re rushing through me. Targeting my heart. And I am the sternum. And she is the cage. I found her in the garden. Surrounded by my skeleton. I’m peering between bars of thoracic cage. I’m surrounded by my skeleton. Or is this hers? She’s licking the bones. She’s planting seeds. Is this mine or is this hers?

My tongue pushes between my lips, involuntary. I’m salivating. I’m resisting. I’m losing. I’m tasting her ribs. I’m lapping up marrow. Is this mine or is this hers? I am insatiable. Ravenous hunger overpowering insomnia. We are eating to burst. Resistant-tongue grazing petal-tongue. Tastebuds brushing velvet. I am the sternum. I am the hunger. I am the starving. I’m filling with perennial, rebirth. There are vines bursting through me. Climbing my walls. Rebuilding my structure. My bones are wasting away. Saliva eating at the surface. Whittling me down. I’m eating myself out of house and home. I am built of glass. Botanic conservatory. I am transparent. I am spectral. I am verdant. Our eyes meet. She is my resurrection. We are becoming one. We are many. We are one. She is we. I am we. We are we. We are swallowing light. There is no light. What is light? Floral nectar rushes through our veins. We suck out life. We are filling. We are flourishing. We are one.

We eat ourselves, raw.

(this excerpt is from my novella Swallow - available in print here https://www.amazon.com/Swallow-Emily-Perkovich/dp/180016291X/ref=sr_1_1?crid=3P8FEJBR0B4Z2&keywords=swallow+emily+perkovich&qid=1680132930&sprefix=swallow+emily+perkovich%2Caps%2C156&sr=8-1 - or lmk if you'd like a complimentary digital copy in exchnage for a review)