A Book of Bones
I have a book of bones,
it props up bookend shadows
a frame and spine for all other books
as yet unearthed or published.
Poetry is all about bones,
it gives clouds bones,
myths their bones,
boneyards their bones.
A book being only images of bones,
has much white space between them,
there you will find delving writers
excavating words from bones.
Today I picked through the book,
prizing rib bones apart
seeking out a heart bone,
off course I found none
I found only a lot of words
for ‘Heart’,
However, some of those words
were actually invisible Love-Bones,
bones that held all other bones
and words - Together.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2021
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