Chicken Bones
Chicken bones on the porcelain plate
One diner stared back with a grieving heart
Silent but earnest, the industry decried
This repetitive chorus of abandoned missions
And the bones cried out for revision
But this diner presided over a powerless division
Of the labor force. All he could do was stare
And hope that out there, some dumpster diver
With experience in prospecting would mine
And grind these bones for the last bit of juices
Planet earth, in some parts, is painful
You spend time watching the distant sky for a sign
Hoping to catch a glimpse of an imagined pie
Some sleep with their hands clasped between their thighs
Dollar signs hoping tomorrow's sun will shine bright
Yeah right. They have the brighter sky this side
But that's not the sign we signed up for
I was there when you rolled your eyes
I saw everything. Just saying
Let me finish, I think I know what a grimace is
I was there when you made that face
You shouldn't have thrown away that mouse
The only food we had in this house
But can you be blamed for thinking?
To you it was a rat and that's all that matters
A quilt of faces from a million places
Staring out, thinking hard, like a limo driver
Turning the wheels of eyes, peering out
In silence, no background music or sound
Trying to see if there is something to see
Something to keep, a souvenir
Some kind of finder's fee, but there is none
Only you, throwing out unfinished chicken
Copyright © Kenny Gwena | Year Posted 2017
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