Bone-Eater

              That lord of the living room who ate our bones for tea
              and told us we should be glad, who gave us
              our heart's desire then snatched it away,
              who played games in the rain, smacking us with the heavy ball
              until we swallowed our laughter --

              some god is eating him piece by piece
              while he composes oral arguments from his bed
              about which pieces will go and how and why.
              He doesn't wonder why we don't stay near
              to watch him die.  "Look," my sister says,
              as he limps in his johnny down the tiled corridor,
              "he's got the same skinny legs we all have."


              Cameron Thomas

     

              *         *          *
      
        
              about the poem:

              "The poem is part of a series about my father's life and recent
              death from cancer."



              Current Issue | Mystic No. 4 Contents |