Cast my Bones

My biceps bind my humeri,

clavicles and scapulas conspire to steal my breath.

Caffeine jitters juggle my ribs,

my pit as hollow as snow.

The wind blows,

the kettle boils,

the laundry dries.

But oh my, my bones.

My metatarsals trade taps

for ticks with the clock in the hall.

Knuckles have been crack.

My fingers twist my hair,

scratch beard,

roll cigarettes that I light on the gas stove.

Smoke swirls in me

blue as a dead boys lips,

exhaled through my teeth.

My eyes blink hard, must again

and again soon again,

and oh, oh my bones.

Author's Note

The original title of this poem is Dollas, which are the knuckle bones used for divination thrown by Sangomas (witch doctors) in South Africa.

Reviews

[Emily B]

I like the new title . . . brilliant work

[.]

~ brilliant...
~ "Caffeine jitters juggle my ribs" is beyond brilliant... spectacular...

[_mal]

Wow, I know this feeling well. Well, I know this feeling reads as detached

[Dearantlers]

I agree with L. The poem is more than it seems on the first few reads. It's great! I have to admit that I was kinda confused at first with all the big words, and then I figured out that they're the names of all the bones, and I love it! Great job!

[L]

Told you you're getting old ;) I think this poem is more than it seems on first read (or second or third for that matter). It has a nice rhythm, like the rhythm of life and the line "blue as a dead boy's lips" that's a great line.