You have been claimed.
I have seen my competition holding perfumed picks
and daggers in their eyes.
They know the value of the treasure I have found,
but I'm already in your skin.
While I'm here, in my space beside your heart,
would you mind if I gently took a rib?
This is archaeology, my love.
I will sew you up with kisses;
stitch you up with x's and oh's
x's and oh's
Hold me steady,
while I chisel our names into the bone that crossed your heart,
like kids in campus trees:
I will sacrifice a rib if you will do the same.
We will tie a bow around them, and send them into space,
and Orion and Andromeda will be as jealous as the rest
when they read our names upon our bones
and see our love alive inside the marrow.
This is archaeology.
Long after we are dead, our story will live on.