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.