Poetry

Bone Drum
by Monica S. Kuebler

If you cut me open from
chin to pelvis,
crack my skull,
slice wide my arms
and legs,
if you snip out my
organs one by one
so my heart could no longer pound for you
so my lungs could no longer breathe and gasp for you
so my stomach could no longer hunger for you
so my brain could no longer love and lust for you
so my muscles could no longer tense and thrust for you…

If you boiled what was left,
boiled my body
till the last of the tendons
and tissue and earthly flesh
was worn from the bone
- smooth -
then I'd be the sum of every
human creature and the sum of none at all.
However, if you picked up one of those bones
and struck it against a drum
you would see that even then
I would create music,
art, a beat that can entrance
the living to dance to it.
It was born in my bones.

If you cut me open from
chin to pelvis,
crack my skull,
slice wide my arms
and legs,
if you snip out my
organs one by one,
you would see that
you would feel that
you would know that too.

August/September 2005

Bone Drum by Monica S. Kuebler If you cut me open from chin to pelvis, crack my skull, slice wide my arms and legs, if you snip out my organs one by one so my heart could no longer pound for you so my lungs could no longer breathe and gasp for you so my stomach could no longer hunger for you so my brain could no longer love and lust for you so my muscles could no longer tense and thrust for you… If you boiled what was left, boiled my body till the last of the tendons and tissue and earthly flesh was worn from the bone - smooth - then I'd be the sum of every human creature and the sum of none at all. However, if you picked up one of those bones and struck it against a drum you would see that even then I would create music, art, a beat that can entrance the living to dance to it. It was born in my bones. If you cut me open from chin to pelvis, crack my skull, slice wide my arms and legs, if you snip out my organs one by one, you would see that you would feel that you would know that too.