Circle of Bone and Blood

these words are cut in bone
the blade pushed until the tip tastes marrow
and moved slowly
carving letters into rib
and clavicle
and vertebrae
and all the bones of the skull
so that together they make a verse

no rhymes
but some alliteration
and metaphors cut deep into femur and phalanges
and there is a natural cadence when the bones move
and the poetry rolls like small talk over coffee
but tastes of bone and blood

all these words are wrought deep, where bone is soft
and the darkest blood pushes through
and feeds the marrow and the mind
and some sound leaches through the veins
so that syllables drift bone to bone on a sea of blood
a mad, lunar rush
pulled skyward
until finally settling under the blade
to wind up here