Hannah L Stone

this is where I write the light
these bones of mine

these bones of mine

 

These lines
these lines
these lines
beneath my skin
that hold me straight
and up and down
etched strong,
seeing eyes that
cut and see
beneath
between
that see these lines
a map that ever only points
backwards to the
past tense –
fractured
broken
healed.
These lines
these lines
these lines
that hold me up
that I hold up
a story of fault
lines; shifted
grown
plates pressed and fused.
These lines
these lines
these lines
held to the light
held by the light
made right
made true
shown arrow piercing through.
These bones
these bones
these bones of mine.

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