Monday, November 18, 2024

An old bone 2015

  

I wake in the dark of night

 not to hamster in my brain

just the tap tap and ping

that would ring in me long ago

too vague to pin down

as anything more than

 wind scraping leaves

 against the windows

haunting no less

 the spirit rising out

of the mist of sunset

to return to Earth again

when at last the sun rises once

 more the tap tap tap

like inpatient fingernails

the ping staring down deep

 in my bones

 felt more than heard

an ache rather than a memory

 of things I cannot reverse

 that exist

 persist and remain

 lodged inside me

 like a bone if only half swallowed

I can't spit up or digest

 


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