Josh Roelink Poet Prose Poetry

Morning Bones

MORNING BONES

This bed,
This deep deep lake
Dredge my bones from 
The murky depths
Where’s my head?
The diver reaches out
Through dark silted water
Finds something akin
To its former form
Assembles it on the edge
This is the way it would have been
The experts agree and walk away nonchalantly 
They’ve seen it again and again
This is nothing new they say
He’s done it before, he’ll probably do it again.
The commissioner of these affairs
Thinks a major decision has to be made
But in the quiet of night 
No light or reason
Can stop the unfathomable from occurring
He’s done it before and he’ll do it again,
Shadows playing late into the night and 
The shell left in the morning light.

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