Maia Mayor Poems

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What The Bones Know

When I am old, my bones will make music with every crack,
creating rhythms throughout my spinal cord and back
that tell fractured stories of where I've been.
All 206 of them are shells that breathe life into the living,


Is there something wrong with you?
A loose screw or two that ruined your ability to function?
Why are you always so tired?
Your life is uninspired and small; all you do is sprawl on the couch

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus

♫ I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus
Underneath the mistletoe last night...♫
….and it was really weird.


The exchange of words is repetitive.
Thrown back and forth in a never ending game of tag
we've been playing for years.
Balancing english and broken spanish on the tip of the tongue,


When I was little
I used to rip the wings off of butterflies so they would never leave me.
Crippled their beauty so they knew the hurt of being lonely.
And while the rest of the world flew by,

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