Could It Be My Bones Poem by Manonton Dalan

with this broken branch so straight
little bit bigger than my left thumb
i will keep on walking towards river
loose rocks rolling down hill; scary
sun kissing my lips; am very thirsty
broken glass lodge beneath dust; bait

shiny gravel matted; no plants to see
i hear water flow; rushing pass bend
i feel dampness on my feet; refreshing
dried wood scattered; pretty sculpture
can't resist evenly smoothness; i touch
came to life; how beautiful when alive