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Knochen
May 26, 2014
Bones, like flesh, bleed when they’re alive.
But when the flesh is maimed,
and the blood is drained,
the bones remain.
They yellow and crackle,
sallow and shrivel.
The bones slump over the stump of a tree
that has never regrown.
The trees concave like question marks.
They bow to an honored resident.
She’s lived here so long
but her name is unknown.
© Tim K., Marblehead, MA
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