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A note on “The bones are like a trapeze apparatus (the carcass) upon which the flesh is the acrobat" Blue painters tape: “That should do it.” His spine curved under his shirt. Quivering, coughing, two spined shapes bending and torquing and sticking the tape around the frame. The air carried. She didn’t touch her arms to her sides. Blood, pulse, blink. It was obvious that she couldn’t find words. Not now. He told her not to do that, not to do that. She didn’t. She made the touches of her mouth she put her hand on his knee on the carpet of dust. She didn’t say leave; he didn’t leave; she didn’t leave. Blood, pulse, blink. It was behind her. It was all behind her. Adjust more. Adjust. Stuck again. Smile.