Skeletons on Parade

A silly poem written for a Halloween Photo Contest,”Skeletons on Parade.”


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Bare Bodkins

Tibia or not tibia?
Free from flesh’s bloated moat,
we share a humerus moment, while
lumbar-ing in our plastic floats.

If there is no to-marrow, dear,
rest in peace with me today.
I clavicle you forevermore.
Hold tight to my phalanges.

Fibula after fibula,
we had no skull at lying.
At short radius we were shot,
an ulna-tural way of dying.

Patella a little closer, love.
Let’s fuse our sacral vertebrae.
In this undiscovered country,
we’ve a femur hours to play.

© 2022 | K.Hartless


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