Na/GloPoWriMo Day 12: Write a poem about a dull thing that you own, and why (and how) you love it. Alternatively, what would it mean to you to give away or destroy a significant object?
In my house I keep a pile of bones
on a shelf near the window
where they can feel the Sun
and feel the wind and the rain.
I won’t discard them or cast them away
my bones that I keep near my window
I won’t bury them or crush them
or make them look pretty
I won’t pretend they’re something they’re not.
I will let them rest where they are, just as they
near my window
where they can feel the Sun when it shines
and they can feel the wind and the rain.
Why not bury them, put them where they belong
I’ve been asked from time to time
I guess it’s because
I’m like that pile of bones
resting near my window
and I know what it’s like
to be discarded, to be forgotten
to be denied the Sun and the wind and the rain.