Sunday, May 8, 2016

weathered bones

206 of them by the time I turn 18
I hit the keys
27 in each hand
operating without hesitation
a beautiful, complex structure

Exo, endo, hydrostatic
evolution and adaptation
they're the reason why the birds fly 
and the humans crawl

they melted every time our hands brushed
but the moment the music seeped into our ears
they fused back together, but denser this time
the hushed rhythm leaked into our skin and submerged all 206 
and we danced freely; like we were underwater
our souls were not eclipsed by the crowding tissue
and the marrow inside resonated the sounds and sang along
just loud enough to break the strings
and the puppet masters gasped

but strings aren't the only thing that can break
the accident caused me to question the delicacy of these parts
this fragile framework that can be so stalwart
can shatter like stain glass windows on a church
the signatures on the caste declare that they're healing
but the paralytic never knew recovery

196 move in unison and I'm walking away
but I can feel it in every part of me
"they're weighing me down," I say
the entirety only twenty pounds on average
and while the rest may wither and waste away
these 20 pounds stay behind

there are skeletons in my closet

 







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