Parading

that sounds like someone’s rough fingers weaving

into another’s, that sounds like a match being lit
into another’s, that sounds like a match being lit
in an endless cave, the song that says my bones
in an endless cave, the song that says my bones
are your bones, and your bones are my bones, —Ada Limón
are your bones, and your bones are my bones,
—Ada Limón

atoms

4 responses to “that sounds like someone’s rough fingers weaving”

  4. powerful poem. gracias for the link. “She splits her time between Kentucky, California, and New York.” i’d love to know how she found kentucky.

    Reply

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