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.
