Friday, November 21, 2014

Harvesting Bones

“Harvesting bones is a good job!”

At least I’m told this by a lady in the break room

She wears Docs or something close

And has a ring in each side of her nose


I asked her if she was into punk rock

She said, “No, I’m into nature.”

I liked her answer

It was the most punk thing she could have said

I thanked her for the job info

Then made my way back to the time clock

As I worked, I thought

Anywhere would be better than here

Or would it?

Plenty haunts me in my sleep

Without adding to it


Harvesting bones from the dead

Pulling bones from body parts

Does not sound appealing


The fear of stepping away from the familiar

Is worse than the first step away

Ten minutes into my shift

I’m ready to pluck bones

This poem is from my book : Petals Falling

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