Sunday, February 10, 2013

Long Bones

photoart: ralph murre

Long Bones
by April Michelle Bratten

She said she could smell the
strength from within you,
could feel the red climb your meat
like a ladder
as you flew down the stairs,
your breath coated in beer
and the euphoria of wings.

how thick was your marrow
as your head bent like a god,
and split apart from itself
as you crashed into the wall
at the bottom of the steps
in front of your young daughter?

Was your heart as swollen
as a bare orange in the hand
of a little blues singer
who thought the moon
was too bright in that moment,
slicing past the window,
a reflection of your chaotic speed?

She was right.
It was all too brilliant,
the light just perfect
for this head-dance,
and it was just an instant,
she said,
with the flapping of great wings,
at the top of the stairs,
being the angel,
becoming the devil-bird,
cracking the air with your long bones.

 ~ previously published, in slightly different form,
    in It Broke Anyway (NeoPoiesis Press)