Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Hold my bones

Doctor me-
hold my bones

Carry them
in your pocket
for just a few minutes
before you put me under
the light of your microscope

Hold tight and twist
insert one
through the space in
between your ribs
and then diagnose
prescribe a dose

Think of my stare
and my running eyes
as I am put deep under-
where I can feel pain no longer

My words melted,
dripped from all
my crevices and drained
through the holes in your head

on me

but don’t forget
to hold my bones


distracted by shiny objects said...

I've read this through several times now and really, really like it. I'm going to have to let it sit in my brain and percolate a bit to be more specific. But it really resonates in my heart. AnnieH

paisley said...

most interesting... i find the reference to the bone,, being stuck back into the ribs a desire to be seen as a part of,, not an oddity... but i am unsure why the narrator feels that way

Pam said...

This is very good. The image of carrying bits of bone in a pocket and using it as a remembrance device. The poem flows well and I will return to it again. Thanks.

Greyscale Territory said...

Love how "bones" become the heart of what you are to a surgeon.


writerwoman said...

Your poem is featured today at PWB. Thanks for being a member.