I speak bones to you in the morning—

hollow, fragile, ordained frameworks,

their marrow winnowed by earth time.

 

I hear emptiness in my pleas for health,

forgiveness, prosperity. Echoes ossify

where blood once pulsed and built.

 

Like the half-attentive spouse who’s learned

to monotone-mimic the last things said,

I recite your Word back to you.

 

Be again my flesh, my whole center.

Fill these thin ribs, this papery sternum.

I desire your increasing renewal.