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Xylophone Ribcage
November 29, 2016
I once strummed his fingers
Like strings of an instrument
To play a song I knew best
Then he, another plucked my rib cage
And played a sad tune
Until he cracked my chest
Fortissimo
Out oozed the ghostly substance
Infectious slime, I’d made a mess
My body; recycled, plastic bottles
Like the ones he drank
To confess
The air I now breathe
Forever will be
The smoke that came from his lungs
My ribs remain cracked
The sad song still sings,
Until we, again, speak in tongues.
© Brad S., Lecompton, KS
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