Bones

The Farm, Santa Rosa, CA. 2009.

I don't have anything to say about this pile of bones, so instead, here's a poem for Raciel.

Pick up you, little girl.
There's the slats of the bed, falling down.
They need righting.
Lay you down on the dark floor
And reach under your slumbering place
To your dust-covered toys,
Your infant clothes saved for wistfulness only.
Pick up you, little girl,
And reach through that rust metal frame.
Latch on to that floating timber,
That pine support for your dreams.