skin and sinew covers barebone
filled with the darkest secrets
seated in the soul:
residual 
after-images
of spent women
speaking of broken covenants
and drinking
copious amounts of wine
to dull the senses
maybe even--
to drown them
like discarded fetuses
secrets
too precious to keep
too insidious
to simply throw away
deep secrets;
dirty little secrets
volatile and
viscous
venal and
visceral.

some
hidden among the sheets
we have crawled into--
bodies
twisted out of shape
flesh seeking
definitive meaning
and something...
more.

however
we are defined
by our shapelessness
and our shortcomings
as trapped
singularities.

hoping--
ever hoping
we are not discovered
before our secrets
betray us.

secrets laid bare
like bones
filling us
and
killing us
mad things
under lock and key
asylum inmates
buried, then
taken to the grave.

and whispered
to an eavesdropping god.