Oh, home of cracked bones,

crypt of condensed composure.

My time has arrived.


One bone, two bones, three bones, rattle my bones,

shake the box until its cobwebbed truth tumbles out

onto hard-packed dust. Shredded into ivory splinters,

you’ll find the derailed train that hurtles toward you,

only a few feet away now. Before you crash, look

closer. Find the starfish patterns that sway on my

prison’s wall and congratulate them for commendable

perseverance. Scratch the surface of the midnight air.

Breathe the chemicals that rise from your skin. Pray

to the earth, press your lips against the summer’s final

remaining blade of grass and beg release from your

bindings. Remember the last time you swallowed

a watermelon seed, and remember the first time

the winter wind clutched your umbrella, allowing

the cold to seep quietly, smoothly into your bones.


Oh, home of new bones,

crypt of condensed composure.

Your time arrives soon.


by Hannah Warren

Hannah is currently an undergraduate English major at Mississippi State University. Upon graduation, she wishes to pursue a Master in Fine Arts degree in Creative Writing; she is published in Nota Bene. She may be found rambling at inksplatteredwords.blogspot.com.

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