Paul Francis
Straight from the Bone
I’m sorry. You must feel I’ve let you down.
I mean, that’s what we do, our framework makes
the structure, right? What fucking good’s a bone
that can’t stay rigid? Cue a ton of jokes.
A fracture’s fine. Sudden dramatic break -
that’s clean and logical. A crashing car
or rugby tackle; impact, crunching crack,
makes sense. But what’s this slow erosion for?
No cause, no purpose. I can barely sense
it nibble at my marrow, lazily.
A myeloma death. So, Don’t mind me,
it mutters from the dark, don’t gauge the chance
of diagnosis, cure. There’s nothing I can do;
I have no way to mitigate, respond, but you ....
Page(s) 27
magazine list
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- 14
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- Lamport Court
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- Paper, The
- Pen Pusher Magazine
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- Poetry London (1951)
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- Poetry Salzburg Review
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- Rialto, The
- Second Aeon
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- Shearsman
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- Staple
- Strange Faeces
- Tabla Book of New Verse, The
- Thumbscrew
- Tolling Elves
- Ugly Tree, The
- Weyfarers
- Wolf, The
- Yellow Crane, The