Soft Skeletons

Bones

I looked up at sky and thought
Bones.

It’s funny, but I looked up
Because I was looking for stars.
In the daytime.

What if stars spoke during the daytime?
What if clouds were louder at night? 

Quiet bones
Under a  black blood hat
Or a blue bleeding bowl
Invisibly staining our heads
Dripping on our skins
And we never notice…

I realize
That the stars never stop,
I’ve never asked them if they ever ache.

I bet if I do ask
They’d say no, not at all.
Stars seem polite like that.
Distant, too.
And so I realize
Stick and stones
Won’t reach these bones.
And our words will never charm them.

I want to be a star, too.
What if they aren’t watching us at all?
What if clouds and stars
Are too busy holding it all up,
To care what we do?

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