Femur Poem by Carlos Gutierrez

I know how to skin a muscle to the bone.

First, you tear the high pitched cartilage to the length of a needle,
and as you hold the knife with your teeth
you taste the oozing plasma of the blood.

With the broken femur
the rest is a piece of cake.

Just use your pocket knife,
and set your flesh free from the crushing boulder.
Now, you may have tried to weather it down,
but the bone supports its massive gravity.

And as you are released from the boulder's angry, fanged grip,
you notice you would've succumbed in the trench
if it wasn't for my wits.

If only I would've skinned your humerus.

Instead, I had to satisfy myself with your femur.

Sad face...