shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Meg Bertram

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My Bones

My bones lack marrow
They fill with the cold ache of night air
The who whoing of owls and the yellow iris eyes
The howl howling of dogs their flexed mandibles
Searching songs of dead sailors
They all mix together
A whisper in my bones
What lonely lives my lymphocytes lead