How can I begin to express the impact Jess Drexler’s poem “Bones” had on me as I flipped through a Teenink issue? It was quite the piece to read. Its silent addressing of the ivory, rattling remains of what once was dwelling hidden in my closet is utterly haunting. I find it comforting (in a particular way) to have the knowledge that skeletons do in fact reside in the shadowy compartments of homes belonging to other people, too. Drexler’s poem was expertly developed to pass this message along--admirably so. I want to thank you honestly, Jess Drexler, for this. From reading your work, I have also realized yet another thing:

I suppose we listen to the things that speak FOR us.