The Paleontologist’s Blind Date by Philip Memmer
I found this one over at American Life in Poetry.
The Paleontologist’s Blind Date
By Philip Memmer
You have such lovely bones, he says,
holding my face in his hands,
and although I can almost feel
the stone and the sand
sifting away, his fingers
like the softest of brushes,
I realize after this touch
he would know me
years from now, even
in the dark, even
without my skin.
Thank you, I smile—
then I close the door
and never call him again.
