Bones for Everyone

when I wake up

violet rays burn down their warmth

on my arms

I feel it staggering—

beads of heat on skin

slight burns on flesh

the temperature dwindles down

to this

to me

I am not the beautiful

they want me to be

reach your hands inside

and find what you will:

maybe geraniums and thick thighs

I'll leave the windows open for you

what else am I?

a tongue made up of suns

another form of heat

dig deeper and you'll find

exoskeleton of a dictionary

cartilage of the verbose

I am all bones.

white bones

oleander bones

toxic bones

mint bones

red bones

bones from me to you

for me AND you

still bones

broken bones

what is in my bones

isn't just empathy and the obvious shattering

it's something the foxes like to bite down on

and run away with

and throw into the pyre

of granite rocks and bloodstones

make a bone stew and you'll taste longing

you'll taste the lonely

you'll taste the red threads

at the bottom of the pot

that tie my wrists down

to the ground

where eventually

I will become it.