Bone Pile

I spent months

setting them up

those emotional "dominoes"

black rectangles on end

balanced just so

white spots spelling out

ego

emotions

soul

just a sharp stroke

of a tongue

on one corner

and

they fall...

and fall...

and fall...

they lay

scattered

and

chaotic

on their backs

like beetles

unable to turn

their undersides exposed

and vulnerable

how many times

can they be realigned

how many times

before the spots erode

how many times

before it's empty inside

like dead beetles'

dry, brittle shells?

Request permission to use this poem

Hello PoetryVoting

Bone Pile - Hello Poetry