August 2013

My Bones Know

My bones know
when it is going to rain
before the clouds decide
to turn the corner
with no reason
but just because

My bones know
the feel of a hammer
hanging from my hip
a bag of books on my back
a box of freight on my shoulder
a back pocket with more words
than dollars

They know the weight
of my parent’s heads
against my head
when they kiss me
on New Year’s Eve
and the weight
of my lover’s hands
on my thighs
after the bar closes

My bones know
forty years of walking
on asphalt and concrete
twenty years of kneeling
down to make a buck
ten years of loving
without guilt or giving a shit

My bones know the silence
Of being alone all day
sleeping on a couch
until the rhythm of night birds
calls them out to smell
the boozy breath of the moon

they know the hush
between the colors of the sunrise
and the 8am bumper
to bumper breakfast taco
coffee cigarette anti-anxiety pill
traffic orgy
that ends up right where it started

My bones know of
other bones buried
under velvet river stones

My bones know the exact
hour when they will cease
to exist down to the dirty second
but they won’t tell me

My bones scare me
they know too much
sometimes they feel heavy
resting in their ivory sockets

—César de León

3 thoughts on “August 2013

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