Saturday, June 18, 2011

Oh Lordy, It's Poetry...

-Bones Beneath You-

I see your structure when we fight
The way you are construed
Your mother’s long bones
Grown into yours, holding
your metatarsals far apart
From your angry mind

You are made sure by your bones
Held lofty by your bones
Given that righteous smile and haughty strut
By the calcium you’ve collected
(Since that malleable escape
through the pubic space
Of your superbly heeled mother)

Your bones snap now, you know
Just as you do
And without flesh
Are frightening, they leap
From dark spaces
To rattle me
Out of
My calm comfort

Your bones give you leverage-- are
In fact, levers themselves
And act as a framework
For launching your arguments
Both a casing and a cage
For your discomfitures

When you accuse me
Of thoughtlessness
It is your distal phalanx
That points at me
Your humerus that lifts it high
And makes it shake
In my innocent face

If it weren’t for stubborn bones
draped softly with your
pleasing flesh
I could form you into an other
Wad you up to make you anew
Find a shapely form
of flesh-- by molding you--
That I agree with
And agrees with me

1 comment:

Jeannie said...

Cool flowers - what are they?

And I like the poem. If I were the subject of said poem I'd probably swing my humerus and hit you solidly with my clenched metacarpals.

But I like it.