Poets have already sucked all the marrow from bones, gleaming,
weary, and white. They hear the cracking in a way
those ordinary among us simply stack pelvis atop femur—
all cantilevered over a mosaic of metacarpals—and jaunt forth,
teeth exposed and clattering. Other writers strut and pick
clean the shards like ravens. Sifting through the splinters,
they pan for secrets set deep within the supple collagen matrix
as it reknits itself—kinked and brittle—always a little too bent.
If you’re off center, take the break. There are those who lay
prostrate, roll over, masticate and grind; in the mouth
they assuage the stiff and tired, spurred by transforming
a loss. After all this time, who doesn’t enjoy a good boning.
Victoria Heartwood’s fiction and poetry have been published in various literary magazines, including Washington Square, Belletrist (Pushcart nomination), Spectrum, Funicular Magazine, 580 Split, and is forthcoming in Gargoyle Magazine. She holds a master’s degree in fiction, a doctorate in higher education with a focus on embodied learning, and currently works full-time as a writer. Find Victoria at www.victoriaheartwood.com, on Twitter @DoveVictoria, and through Instagram @victoria.heartwood.