It used to be we kept them

locked up tight, bound and 

gagged, jaw bones chained

to the floor and filthy rags taped

over the holes

where the eyes once waited,

watching. 

Now we buy them brand new

Pick them out of catalogs, customized

with all the latest

diagnoses, all the fancy

damage upgrades

Shabby chic

for the narcissist soul

And we dress them up in

costume pieces, gaudy beads and trendy things that scream 

I have my shit together 

but for these bones, here-

See my bones?

We walk them on parade, 

let them strut out before us

slapping all the other people

in the way-

There is no room for your bones here

Look at all my splintered parts 

cast from latex

and gummy resin. 

Mine are the only ones. 

And in the back room

in the closet, padlocked

tight

The skeletons who know the truth

are chewing through their bonds,

prepared to speak.