Bone Crusher

Listening to the thoughts
Rattling in contemplative
Gestures of this mind held
By the constraints of who
We were, are, could be, taught,
Never, can’t, won’t, afraid.
A breath taken, a gift of oxygen
Fed only to the fire with in,
A moments supplication of why,
Pausing to reflect on all
The questions left unanswered
And never will because,
They are unanswerable grains
Of sandy grit burrowed under
The crotch of a salty bathing
Suit on a sun burnt beach,
An irritation stopped only
When naked under a cold
Shower of cleansing reality.
Smiles left to lay in the gutter
Where they slipped off the faces
Of intimate friends falsely
Chosen in a frantic clinging
Clasp of a need to be wanted,
Accepted, desired, felt, loved,
Appreciated, esteemed, falsehood.
The wine has been uncorked, tasted
Found lacking, of inferior quality,
However it was wine, dark red, with
A hint of wild berries, a romp
In the hay, a roll between the covers
Squeezing the succulent juices
Of ones marrow from the bone crushing
Dregs, to wit the bottle is empty.

Copyright: 2008, Donald Harbour

3 thoughts on “Bone Crusher

  1. Don, your poetry is wonderful. It has so many layers and touhes me. I feel a coonection. My poetry is more diret but I strive for that aspect whih can go beyond the obvious. Yours does. I think I am just about learning it.

    And yes, I read you in my google reader. For some time now.


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