Bone Marrow

These walls have been
Taped together and protect us from
The detritus we’ve shed in
Restless abandonment. Amid
Trash bags, bookshelves, Edison’s radios,
And collections of The Grapes of Wrath,
We tell ourselves we’re practicing
For future excavations while, instead,
We seek reason to shed our old skins
And erase the memory of who we were
Forgetting that memory lives not
In the skin, but swims deep down
In the marrow of the bones.

Author: Erica V.

Always seriously joking and rambunctiously soft-spoken.

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