428. I SEE BONES

I SEE BONES
I see bones of long ago -
all unchanging yet serving
the means all the same. A
rigid primogeniture of use and
and purpose : as if the 'arms'
really did 'make the man.'
Anyway, I see nothing of the
senseless new. I see bones.
-
She is standing sweetly;
composed of those bones
underneath - though you'd
never know it from looking or
seeing her. The otherwise soft
fabric of all of her life covers
all that - the loves and the lines,
the soft coating of flesh and hair.
Things of no account, really.
-
That passing moment of the
human chime covers all
that skeletal grime.