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  • Writer's pictureasj

Evaluate my bones

Evaluate my bones when I'm gone

When my skin and hair,

my blood and tongue

are long turned to dust

My bones are frank and simple

Earnest and free

They will give up my stories


Let my bones tell you

how I carried babies,

and which hip I favored

and which ribs never settled back into place.

Earlier stories exist, but

require more finely-sharpened eyes

and fingertips that can read

the buried braille etched on my bones

Stories of twilight hikes

and a thorn that pierced my left palm

A lion whose roar awakened me to

the rising stars of the southern cross

Stories of ample faith

When all we had were long shadows

When the writing on the wall said

"Love is all that ever left."

Analyze my bones to see

What ossified and protected

the soft places that never grew tough.

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