I throw my bones into the air,

and stare in rapt terror

as the dice rolls,

the wheel turns, 

the gun barrel spins,

and I clutch my heart as they scatter.

I swoop down

in unfamiliar arcs

to gather them up again,

then take my place

in blank meekness beside them

and wait for them to reassemble.

But they only quiver and hum

in ancient tones,

while I make a feeble vow

that my heart shall not take residence

inside my head again.

I feel it buck in defiance,

grown strong

through decades of dominion,

and the familiar bitterness fills my mouth,

followed by the addictive sweetness.

But I resist the urge to swallow,

and watch it hiss on the cold ground.

Finally I take my thigh bones

and lay them toward the sun;

my white-boned palms

facing upward

in the gentle curve

of an empty imploring hand.

I fill my rib cage

with feathers and stones

and set it all to fire,

to watch it rise like a prayer,

then bury the ashes

to seed what they will…..

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