To wish

Once I saw a wishbone
that someone had taken
out of the body of a bird—

She rubbed it clean,
stripped it of any
reminder of flesh,

dipped its ends in gold.
Only the hinge that flew
like an arrow in two

directions remained
unvarnished, lacking
in luster— I loved

that part immediately:
I lavished on it my most
extravagant hopes.

1 Comment

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.