tree bone 

i make my
bed every morning
at 7:55 by
tossing my beige blanket
until it hangs even--
resist gravity
who tells me to
wrap myself
up-- lately i want
to sleep forever
where it's warm
where no one
can see my bones
& outside of
course
there's the trees
being so bold
as to wear their
nakedness-- their 
black bones shivering
in the dull sunrise--
i keep the blinds 
drawn but
i know they're 
out there--
caressing
each other's fingers--
numbly feeling
for clouds--
soon i will
walk out the front
door to admire
them-- 
eyes watering
from the mischeif
of the wind--
carpals snapping
beneath
my grey &
green sneakers--
how brittle
are my bones
in winter?
how brave & frivolous 
are the trees
to put on this
show-- 
there was of
course one
point in the
seventh grade
where they made us
label 
all the bones
in the human body
& i remember very
little--
i'm haunted
by the memory 
of blank flash cards
& beautiful 
location-less bone-words
somewhere these
trees have fibulas--
they have a pelvis
to sit on--
a broken patella--
a clavicle
bruised from 
bird kisses--
i joke with myself
that maybe
this time next year 
i'll move away to
somewhere 
not so cold in
the winter--
like the blue jays
-- i boast
to the geese 
that i'm flying
south this year--
that i'm sick
of getting naked
with the trees--
of course they'll
hook & laugh 
because they
know i'm too
tired
to fly that far
if i wanted to--
you will always
have a stubborn
admiration for
the place 
where you were born--
wrapping a blanket
around myself
i peak behind
the blinds--
see the trees
femur deep in 
powdery snow--
radius balancing
the hestitant
sun-- she peers
in on them
all in their
waltz as they
slow after
a passing breeze--
we blink &
i feel the next
gust shake 
me-- skull
swallowing air--
where are my
leaves?
wrap me in
blankets, lovers--
pick up my bones
& use them 
for fire wood
beneath 
the bed frame--
turn on the over head
light-- write
tree-bone poetry--
i will 
tell the geese 
i am already
gone