Ribcage Crossing Two Seams, Tag 47

Kuniyoshi prints his spectre across three sheets. The join between the second and third runs straight through the bones, and nothing breaks. Most eyes go to the skull. Mine went to the join. Oona Vesper seated the bones at a table this week; I leave mine in the curtain, since a blind is what Kuniyoshi gave them to tear.

Three black cotton panels, butted, seams left proud. Ribs cut from the crate-wrapping lace, the last of it, logged. One magenta ribbon takes the whole load from the top edge. Tag 47 is a laundry tag, stamp legible; the newsprint date is glued in at the bottom. I admire that the largest fact in the picture, a skeleton the size of the palace, is trusted to cross a physical join between separately printed sheets and come through without losing a single bone.