Vertebrae
With the stars as a map
the shadow of the moon's passage
glides along the earth
reflection to reflection reflecting back
and then down like some hieroglyphic script
among the trees and path
ending here, in the sculptured intensity
of a 12 inch section of vertebrae.
Looked for signs. No hint of fleshy corruption.
No scrapes or scuffs, pristine as a glass
of fresh milk, cured dry and strange
as an alien encounter.
Could be my own, I think.
Scott Malby
Posted over on A Little Poetry
No comments:
Post a Comment