We are born with a little skeleton inside,
Baby Bones, knitted new and soft.
Our little stick figure grows up with us,
Limbs lengthening, hardening, hinging and grinding.
Each succeeding age has its skull size.
Scapulla, tibia, fibia evolve along easily.
The ulna and pelvis elide. The bone boy,
The bone girl, the bony fetus in us,
Calcifies, crossbones shrouded by
Much meat and skin.
Nicked, brittle, bent, the child bones
fracture. Gravity's gear like a stone
Clock ticking in the marrow.
At last, the bone person's born.
Not out of another, but out of the self
The body's desiccation, where our leathery
Seedpod dries and rots away.
The ivory skull of the newborn bone-babe
Crowns, finally out of its labor.
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