The Twila Series
“I heard those spirits again the night the river gave up its bones.”
Bone River by Megan Chance
The moon won’t come near the river
when the Wailers rattle their spines
against the cattails.
Spring has been summoning bones since
the butterweed tore a hole in winter’s lung.
I’m pink skinned and blood breathing,
and as tempted by darkness as a moth
clinging to a porch light bulb.
I’m more afraid of Tommy Landry
drunk roaming than sitting with skulls.
It isn’t the first time I’ve danced with the dead.
I was born in the bleached cradle of a doe’s ribs
because mama heard the lullaby of corpses
as soon as she felt my first thump in her belly.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to know yet.
Patience didn’t leave a seed in me….
It’s hard to translate when a voice doesn’t
have a tongue…But then there’s tongues
that are only campgrounds for blabbering.
©Susie Clevenger 2019