the lovely bones

rising through the earth she
runs the wet street she lives in but
everyone
is gone

and the honey light that swelled
the curtains while mama cooked
blows ashen
like her cheek
and her pale green eyes are wonder
and her voice is
an echo of a light-headed famine
and her bones describe
the hidden plans and sketches he smooths his eyes are steady his track unseen through the cornfield his glasses gleam the creases in his trousers switchblade clean

rising through the cornfield
she smokes like the end of a fire
rises like a wraith of flesh and tar
a holy scar that points the way for
the wise ones to follow
waiting for a
kiss that never came

jenjewelbrown