Question

What my body knows
is not a lie it’s not
a lie I tell you it is not
it’s nothing short of truth
and nothing larger
my past lodges
in my marrow and if
I wanted a transplant
There’d be no match
Others’ sorrows dwarf
my petty traumas still
these bones are mine
when they creak
when they moan
when they whine
there’s only one thing
I can claim these bones
are mine I tell you
they are mine and kind
to abandon no thing
that makes this pulse
no one but me.