Them Bones

Have you seen my bone collection
carefully laid out in five sections?
silently serving as reminders
not all my work I’m just their finder

The first one is a pile of hand sticks
from when I used to get my kicks
caressing her face deep in the night
unceasing in gray morning light

Next I look at jumbled foot-beams
reminding me sometimes it seems
to be one way but is another
when to stay or run for cover

And third are breastbones in a heap
showing me the heart is deep
and filled with myriad desires
cold calculation; raging fires

Peruse these lined-up vertebrae
they put your courage on display
they’ve shouldered heavy loads, I’m sure
from the nefarious to pure

And last we see the king of bones
these skulls through which the spirits moan
dusty whispers; raw cognition
the vehicle of love’s attrition

I only keep these things about
to show me I can do without
the devilry that  one can speak
at one’s raw emotional peak