September 21, 2002

these bones

i sit with the skeleton in my kitchen
offering it coffee like we’re old friends
it staring at me as it grabs my cookies like a child,
acting like i’m not even there.

(it doesn’t really matter. i’m lost wonder when i’m going to be cutting lines in the snow with her again, and i know it’s not anytime soon. it never is soon enough for me, i want her all the time.)

so i teach the bones to breathe,
and we spend the rest of the day blowing candles
making the flames dance for our amusement,
but still i don’t fill full.

i ask the bones,
what does it take to finally fill complete?
it doesn’t seem to know any more then me,
"i think a heart would make you full," he says.
suddenly i feel empty,
because she still has my heart.

(on a beautiful night when the moon sang over us like old yellow cheese. i held the world in my hands that night. like beads in my pocket she rattled around inside of me crossing colors over colors till i lost all track of time. but, she could not love me forever. and when i gave her my heart, placing it warm inside her hands. she ran. ran like a girl in a storm. frantic that she might not get away.)

the bones stir in the cool night air,
"why do you need her love so?"
i look at the bones,
through the holes for eyes i see a thousand reasons i still can not understand.
it’s the scent that carries on her long into the night, i finally say.
it’s why i loved her.
loved to hold her,
it’s what I remember even today.

"is it wonderful to feel, even with the pain?" it asks.
more then could ever be explained, i sigh.
so i sit with the bones no one cares to remember,
and i try to teach it how to love.

before - after