These Cold Bones by Anna Harris - February Femmes Fatales

The fiction that has been glittering in The Feardom's halls so far this month has impressed and astounded. Every tale hangs in a gilded frame on my red walls, suspended by black ribbon - the words ebbing in and out sight, of consciousness, of belief.

And now, something different is padding its soft feet across my Persian rugs to take its place on centre stage. A poem. A beautiful and disturbing poem that twists and turns.

These Cold Bones is written by our very first Femme Fatale in the 2012 showcase, Anna Harris. With these deft and chilling words Anna proves her versatility as author and poet. Please enjoy...

THESE COLD BONES

I'm cold to my coreless core
wearing skinless bones
the very ones
with which I hugged you
- the ones that stifled moans

Cosseted you,
pronounced you mine
when I was warm
and when I warmed you, too
- when we were fine

I used to radiate
some said, with love of life
a life of love
the love of you
- the perfect wife

Arsenic, a slab of marble
and cold hard clay
divides our bond
six feet apart
- by night, by day

Me down, you up
too far to touch
each alone
in solitary chill
- no fleshy warmth to clutch

Your poison seeped
in through my mouth, my skin
my blood, this casket
and now it feeds the earth
- that I’m encased within

You’re frozen to your spineless soul
a foreign chill to mine; worlds apart
But I’ll feast, take my revenge
when you take sleep
- my succour, your sucking callous heart

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Bio: The day cloning is as common as the garden variety cold, Anna Harris will abscond to a deserted tropical island with nothing but palm trees, her laptop and a vat of chocolate for company. She’ll let her team of replacement Annas stay home in Australia chasing their tails.