THE COLLEGE HILL INDEPENDENT


Skeletons

by Ben Bienstock

Illustration by Pia Mileaf-Patel

published October 19, 2018


I remember when I was Boy

and mother was Mother

Bells chimed at noontime on streets made asphalt sang songs

it goes on and on

 

your hearts are lined with parallel filament

mine are jelly and melt

 

I could fall and spring back up but sometimes I’d hide there

 

I felt the heat of the day on my forehead when I lay on the floor and I heard the

television and the static and I put my ear to the floor and I could only hear the

static until I just felt the electricity

 

I didn’t know Danger wasn’t Volcano and I heard thump thump in my sleep

 

your bones made of plaster and glue

mine styrofoam

 

Movie theater heatwave on Saturday night

wished to really hear on both sides

run between rooms to catch the difference

was in love with sound then

 

your toenails unholy

mine are easily deceived

 

Skeletons could be funny sometimes

Mother look hard at TV, you’ll see

keep where you are that's it you’ll get it soon keep waiting I promise

I told you it would come

 

your mouth runs circles

mine is void of shape

 

I vibrated to a tuning fork of my brother’s volition

 

I who wished to leap from my body and enter a neon sign bright and warm

in the middle and never worry about early

 

I who wanted nothing more than to be tape spooled and unwound and wound

again until gave out and another from the store

 

you who has fingers made of elastic

and mine that are only there some of the time