Only The Smallest Bones Poem by gregory collins
Only The Smallest Bones
i dream with only the smallest bones.
Those still in the quarry above the clouds,
and in a prarie mesh of wire racks,
i hope i am banging on the wall of little bird hearts.
Taking the stars as my only prisoners,
and letting them dry in the sun the next day.
So i can trace my fingers deep down inside,
like you breathed me in unconcerned about what others might say.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/2/2024 7:07:30 AM # 1.0.0.1119
