Ezekiel said
The head bone's connected
to the heart bone,
but mine have always felt out of sync,
the dry, brittle calcium
flaking,
from memories
that never marry
with the fantasies I feasted on.
My patellae,
paralyze my frame,
my tongue twists useless in my mouth,
even forgetting my name.
It seems these bones
were only made for carpel wringing,
and aching marrow,
grieving
what was never held
to be lost.
About the Creator
Ellie Hoovs
Breathing life into the lost and broken. Writes to mend what fire couldn't destroy. Poetry stitched from ashes, longing, and stubborn hope.
My Poetry Collection DEMORTALIZING is out now!!!: https://a.co/d/5fqwmEb
Keep reading
More stories from Ellie Hoovs and writers in Poets and other communities.
You Weren’t Supposed to Read This
You weren’t supposed to read this. That was the first line, written in the margin of a notebook I never intended to open again. It wasn’t a warning so much as a plea. The kind you make when you hope the paper itself might protect you from being seen.
By Imran Ali Shaha day ago in Poets
Comments (2)
Well-wrought! The past strikes us to the marrow, but we nevertheless, on this revolving orb, move into the future, even when standing still.
I think you can write a poem from anything, Ellie!