In the Beginning

By Jocelyn Mosman

I like to imagine at night,
when the sky is speckled
with stars and each looks
like a different freckle on
your sleeping face,
that I was made from
your rib.

I am attached to your backbone,
giving you strength and support
whether you know it or not ...

I am attached to your sternum,
curving around your organs,
like ebony and ivory keys
in a consecrated chapel,
resonating with every twist and turn
of your torso.

I am the protector of your heart,
pumping life just beneath
your chest.

I am the protector of your lungs,
aware of your constant breath,
unfailing as it travels from day
to night to day.

As you arch your back
to make love to me,
I can't help but notice
how thin you look,
how your ribs protrude
from your skin
like a lost dog.

I want to be the meat
on your bones,
the delicious bits
you savor like memories.

I lean my head against
your ribs and count them,
as I count my blessings
to fall asleep.