Am I Beautiful Now?

When the lights dim, I peel off my skin. Beyond the curtain, voices have quieted and the music starts. I peel away my stubborn flesh, warm and wet; remove my ears, my nose, my scalp. Pull long strips of soft meat from my legs and arms, clumps of tissue from my belly. I scrape away at muscle and fat until only cold bones remain. Then, I clatter down the runway as the crowd gasps. I hear the rush of applause, the murmuring voices, beautiful bones, such beautiful bones. I want to smile but my lips are gone. Yet I must give them something. I pluck each phalange from my left hand, then each metacarpal, tossing them one by one. The audience must be satisfied. I want them to remember me, remember me forever, remember me like this. Nothing but beautiful bones. I am nothing if I am not beautiful bones.

– AJ Wilcox