Bones in the closet


I trip over old bones in her closet

from the last man she brought here

bits of things left behind

which she forgot to throw out

meaningless out of context

except as clues to some journey

some other man took

one of many failed columbuses

who turned back before

they fell off the edge

of her world,

and I wonder

if I am any less scared than they,

and if I, too, will turn back,

the way they have,

l.eaving little clues to my passing here

more bones to collect in her closet

for future sailors to find.




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