Bone Singer

by Catherine Knutsson

Where clouds haunt the sky
And wind beats a dirge
I find bones
Set them in my heron bag
Listen to them weep

To them I sing
The softest lullabies,
Of eider-down, of thistle-frost
Rock them against my hip
Sweetings of sorrow
My little bones

My little bones moan
Gripped in night's net
I slide them cross my palm,
Skin my knuckles
Splice them with my sinew
Entwine our songs

My songs, my bones
My shards of song-bone
Etched by scrimshaw lullabies
Carve by words
I gift you flesh and blood
Pressed to my breast

Catherine Knutsson divides her time between writing, teaching singing, and walking the wilds of Vancouver Island. Her favourite fruit is the raspberry.

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