with your bones when you begin
drawing skeletons. You’ve discovered
a hidden memento mori, internalized
puppet of bones held in linkage by strings
you never knew held you together.
An ache from way, way down makes you
wonder if its marrow deep, in the blood,
written only along the dusty chalk lines.
You realize not all skulls are alike, though
we’ve known this all along. Walk by
shadowed walls of skulls piled
delicately over centuries and the blur comes on,
faces stripped away, grayed stares
mirrored by the million. Sockets
like dry wells. Which of these, you wonder,
resembles the closest you with stretched skin
tried over the chin and cheeks, pulled
back over the tightly drawn grin?
Larry D. Thacker’s poetry is in over 170 publications. His books include three full poetry collections, two chapbooks, as well as the folk history, Mountain Mysteries: The Mystic Traditions of Appalachia. His fourth full poetry collection, Gateless Menagerie, is forthcoming from Unsolicited Press. His short story collection is forthcoming from West Virginia University Press. His MFA in poetry and fiction is earned from West Virginia Wesleyan College. Visit his website at: www.larrydthacker.com
As an artist who literally had to draw skulls and skeletons in art school, I really loved this.
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