bones

things coming out of closets
fallen bones

the scared ones
the bones i clinged to
(flesh hugging tentacles)
now sacred

bones
falling like drum-syllables
bones
to step-over in crooked mazes

are they mine or yours?
are they mine or yours?

and the teeth fell last
the ones that didn't part to say Anything
the ones
that didn't clomp together like cymbals
to Pronounce
Any
Words Of Love
Like Goodbye, for a reason
like,
take it slow.....

the bones were used for chopping off things
human saws, parting ways through, the quickest

bones
eventually dissolving into sponges
fallen spores
whisper dust of the stuff that used to make us
so real and solid

(i whispered this week for you
and i
when i wanted to yell
anger
finally surfacing
when i can no longer say it:
real as bones
and as impermanent)