Art by Rene Magritte, 1928

“Love Dissection” by Jocelyne Ward

Pinky toe
Shoulder blade
Collar bone
Back of the knee

You might find my pinky toe
scraped and swollen, severed
by the effort of finding you in bed
our mattress frame is dangerous, turned
backwards to avoid scratching the walls

It’s my shoulder blade that lives
in the bathroom. Angled with
steamy intentions, it beckons
your fingers to trace the
puzzle piece shapes of my body

My collar bone is in the kitchen
maybe stuck in a soup pot or
wedged between the counter and
the stove, like me, in July
stirring cold sangria
citrus rinds, orange skins of
floral hearts, spray their bitter zing
while you grab me from behind

The back of my knees grow
in the garden; like pale, fleshy
flowers maybe an orchid or
camellia and in the summer they
smell like rosemary and thyme,
not quite as sweet as ice cream
but irresistible just the same.