BARE BONES

I feel like I’m rattling around inside your ribcage After the whale has washed up on a private island, and died. And that rocking, that’s me. Isolation, fear, could all be quelled I guess by slipping through your rib bones bare bone white and walking outside, on this sunny hot day sunny and hot, burning sand feels lovely on one’s feet, I am told. But being pushed from side to side slows that instinct. I’ve been here for years Holding white bone in my hand, because it’s so smooth Tightrope walking down your spine to show you my amazing balancing act. And I know that my footing might be the thing that’s rattling me. Because I don’t see you applaud anymore When I show you my tricks, When I cry out for help To hold me still You watch me rattle, Bare feet holding ground on burning sand. You have stopped trying to whittle bone to free me from this carcass.