Outpouring.

Sternum-spelunker. Press down, count ribs, trace clavicle.

Tap. Hollow.

Tap again.

This woman child's body, this compactness. Never quite compact enough.

Flick of a wristbone, slip through the doorway, press spine neatly into a wall.

Looking for little crevices, little hollow spaces to fold up in. They're dusty. I don't mind.