Bones
A few articulate with humor and grief,
others are hinged
so that ears can hear each other.
Many bones are scaffolds
for vision, prayer and procreation.
One hollow bone hums in the throat,
it channels the smoky saxophones
of consciousness.
When death comes to nibble holes
into breastplates and ramparts
an osseous honeycomb of memory
forms caves,
cavities for disembodied thoughts.
Mind, of course, has always had
its own immortal bones and marrow,
and so even
the humble bitsy sparrow.
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