The Litany of Bones

[alasanon]

She counts the bones beneath her skin, touching each one, a soft prayer that they will remain so, just so --
fibia, tibia, radius, ulna
It makes her feel safe, secure in the knowledge that she is not coming apart at the edges, the firm bone just so --
scapula she reaches behind, where wings would be if she were a fairy an angel a thing that could fly
patella it slides under her fingers, shifting in ways she doesn't like; she moves on
clavicle, carpal, metacarpal
Small bones make her fearful, she likes the large ones best, likes their solidity and bravery in keeping her upright, moving.
pelvis, femur
she
counts
each
rib. each tooth

(though a tooth is not a bone, it too will remain beyond the rot; she feels it is enough.)

She pretends that she can touch the tiniest bones inside her ear, but secretly shudders.
She imagines someone else touching her bones, laying her out in neat rows.
sternum, mandible, maxilla

The skull is last, and she touches the place where once a soft spot was, presses gently as though it were still there, still open; caresses the places that fused so long ago, when she was a child, a toddler, an infant. She had more bones then, but could not reach to touch them.

She writes out in her schoolbooks:
"I want my skeleton to be donated to science.
I want my organs (if any are still good) to be donated to someone alive
someone who will use them properly"

It comforts her to think of her bones, threaded together with wire, placed on display.
People would look at her skeleton, think her graceful, as her flesh could never be.