Hum                                    
                                    a     n
                                         oi
                                       ds
                                      in   
                                 line. In your        
                             closet. Bones hanging
                        from a pole. Wearing your clothes.
                    They’ve never known your skin, your shape,
               yet they linger, with metal hooks and leopard eyes,
           dangling in ease, awaiting the day I call them by your name.