April Poetry: Bone

Poem #2 for National Poetry Month

This poem was written before I received my first heart transplant on January 6, 2006, which means this was probably first drafted in late 2005. Twenty years later, here I am, still being a menace to society.

The inspiration for this poem was simple. I was so sick I couldn’t eat and my weight plummeted to 83 pounds, about 50 pounds below my ideal weight according to all the medical charts. This captures the shock I felt when I saw my skeletal self in a full-length mirror.

This was originally published in Blue Villa Magazine.

Photo by Otto Norin on Unsplash

Bone

By Dawn Levitt

I am bone.
Thin, white, light
Limned along the edge
Of the razor’s blade.
All excess fat
Trimmed away
By the butcher’s knife,
This butcher – life.
I bleed no more –
Bone is dry.
Tears have no echo
For the bone.
My edge is as sharp
And harsh as
A lover’s tongue
In the winter months.
Bone is cold,
Splinters brittle
Like bitten ice
To cut the lip,
But gives no succor
Of melted water.


Originally published Blue Villa Magazine December 2023