The bones of a poem

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The bones of a poem
lie beneath your skin,
anchoring each muscular stanza,
shaping the rhymes of left
and right, dancing
with the complicated riff of the brain punch-drunk on electrical impulses,
stamping jubilant feet
to the pulsing rhythms
of the fluid-bearing
vessels
and their
drum-beat
heart.

One response to “The bones of a poem”

  1. Not-Wonka avatar
    Not-Wonka

    :-).

    (It’s Lorri, btw.)

    Like

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