Carolyn Clink

My necklace of strung bones,
some bleached and fragile,
some so new
blood and gristle
cling to them.

The smell is like daisies.

The necklace
warns the faithful –
stay away.

These bones are not mine.

I click through
my rosary
and remember each person
as they were before
I split them open
with some quick-witted
leaving them wondering
how they lost control.

Never trust me.

Never trust a woman
who wears bones, who
carries her memories
around her neck –
invisible, or not.

You are not listening to me.

From you, I will take
the Hyoid bone, so all
you can do is listen.
Listen to the clacking
of bone on bone
as I recite my story.

In my youth, the bones were daisies,

yellow against my soft skin.
I dreamt my body would rest
in a grave brimming with flowers,
planted there by my children.
Instead, I trusted a man
who buried me secretly,
buried me in pieces,
scattered my bones.

I work my magic on you
and take the one chosen bone.

It is not my job to judge you,
your time will come.
I'm just another dead woman
assembling a body
bone by bone.

Carolyn Clink won the 2011 Aurora Award for Best Poem/Song for “The ABCs of the End of the World.” Her genre poetry publications include: Weird Tales, Analog, Imaginarium 2012: the Best Canadian Speculative Writing, Polar Starlight, On-Spec, Tesseracts, Tales of the Unanticipated, Room, and all 5 volumes of Northern Frights.