Bone Soup

I am a bird with 
bones made out of air

I will be a bull 
with bones of stone

and the day after that
I will buy my bones 
in the market

and make soup


22 thoughts on “Bone Soup

  1. I don’t know why, but I absolutely love this one. Maybe it’s the reference to soup, which always adds a hint of irony to a serious poem. No one can be completely serious about soup.

  2. Hmmm. This is funny? I found it ephemeral, then earthy, and then nourishing. Beautiful poem.

    Perhaps it is because we take our soup seriously here–a foodie and a guy who thinks he can cook, who owns no palate. Deadly mix.

    • Deadly mix indeed. Hopefully he takes constructive criticism well πŸ™‚
      I’ll be honest, sometimes I write things and then have to figure out what they’re about. This is one of those times. There are a lot of resonances in my head about this one…”bone” is currently on the “Word Wild Weft” list.
      Thank you–

    • Ah thank you–I think that is kind of what this poem has come to be about for me. Finding nourishment in the bones of the past…past selves. Funny it often takes me some time to say what a poem is about for me. Years sometimes.

  3. I like the look of all those short words, and the sound of it, and the thought of it. The shortness of it makes me think freely. Thanks for sharing this poem πŸ™‚

  4. Pingback: Fucking Blog Herpes | Sunny Days in DC

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