You can sit up now,

you have landed,

                                                                       in someone else’s  arms or in a net I am not sure,

and now you can feel the rattle of your bones.

             You were a human cannonball,

full of gunpower and shrapnel,

We all waited with our ears covered,

                                                                             and all you gave us was a  small splash,

and virtually no reason to clap.

You didn’t stick the landing, but you still had something we didn’t,

no one did,,,

your bones.

your bones

your bones

Read over the bones, and feel better now that you know what’s in them,

Rip out pages and diagrams of them and stick them on your walls,

know them like your know your favorite sports drink,

or  the layout of your favorite buffet.

Study them under a microscope,

                    and name them after yourself.

                                                                                                       your foot was here first,

your flag was here first,

you found them first and they are your bones.

When you sleep they are still your bones.

When you were  young and were fired out of that cannon they were still your bones,

even when they break into a million cosmic pieces,

and are swept under the rug,

              they  are after all,

still your bones.

still your bones.

still your bones.

                                                                                your foot was still here first,

your flag was still  here first…