Polished Like An Old Doorknob...

Tuesday nights I meet with a poet friend of mine to discuss writing and bits of flotsam scribbled down on paper we bring in to eviscerate.

The cool thing is I get to use words like eviscerate and nobody blinks or thinks me haughty...

Unless, of course, the softball team is sitting at the next table...

Here is the finished (I think, maybe, well... I dunno....) version of the poem I wrote about Bones. No real woman was used in this poem, I just had an idea about seeing people as their structure (and used it in my novel) and was thinking about a tall girl I know (who isn't problematic) and tossing in conflict for interest and oila! got this poem out of it.

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

Your bones give you
leverage-- are in fact, levers themselves
A framework
For launching sad arguments
Both a casing and a cage
For your discomfitures

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)

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

Your bones snap now, you know
Just as you do
Without flesh
Are frightening, they leap
From dark spaces
Rattle me out of my skin

If it weren’t for stubborn bones
I would mold your pleasing flesh
Fix your shapely form to
One that I agree with
And agrees with me


NOTE-- I'm still trying to get the shot with the doll and the dragonfly. I'm trying to make the dragonfly look like a hair bow or something.... Here is one as I try and train the dragonfly to land on the head of the doll so I can hide the aerial...