Bones

Youth of today, you will not live forever.
There is a difference between
God and money
But neither of them matter as long as you have
Thin wrists
And hipbones that rise like sailboats from the flat sea of your stomach.
Don’t swim out too far in that deceiving water
_{(Remember Phlebas, those pearls that were his eyes)}
Glassed over sight
Distorted by scars like bracelets and a false sense of security
Two piece bikinis and high heels.
But I plant my feet in the same grave where I laid to rest the dreams of my mother and realize
We all exist.
I am not a figment of my own imagination.
But we have to be of a legal age to make love to someone who will leave in the morning
Wisdom is not my middle name.
I will be born again in the Spring
_{(April is the cruelest month)}
And until then I will read the Bible I wrote on my skin
_{(Datta, dayadhvam, damyata)}
Keep me in a box in the attic.
Mildew will gather in my lungs
I will sleep between yellowing wedding dresses and folded photographs.
Do not believe you are infinite.
Your skin will yellow and fold with the ash you wipe from your skin
The raw fatigue weighing down your unhappy shoulders.
I do not exist.
I am a figment of my own imagination.
_{(I will show you fear in a handful of dust.)}