Noir Wordplay

"Consumptuary," I said,
   Deliciously rolling the words
About My Mouth.

"Ossuary," came the reply,
   Each and every femur 
Bumping the metaphorical
   lid of the psyche.

"Not -"
   Appalled
Repelled
   At language's
Failure.

"No," with her smile,
   And a laugh,
And a pirouette,
   "Not at all,
But bones in a box."
   And with that, a precise little cough.

And now, in labor,
   Creating a box,
A cute little box,
   Lined in finest marble,
Long enough for tibias,
   And, with the finest of chisels,
"XDR" in the corner.

Let the archaeologists wonder.
   Perhaps they'll cough, too,
And have use of the box.