| http://www.w3.org/ns/prov#value | - Your BonesSaltpan white,Grained with innocence that runs in yearsLike the tree rings we counted as children.??Your bones are beautiful,?? she murmurs to the pale jigsaw.They hold no regret.They hold no memories ??Except of falling off roofsAnd the places we should not have been.There is a softness that underlies cold rigidity:A boy who spoke without smiling,A God who remained unseen.Quiet skeleton
|
