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
Bone-child.

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