Poem: The Thief | Poetry | Hudson Valley | Hudson Valley; Chronogram

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Poem: The Thief

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“Grieved I, when, as the hope-hour stroke its sum,
You did not come…”—Thomas Hardy
I stole a jelly jar
of wishbones
once from a dead man—
they sang like a rattle,
those ten conjoined
clavicles, and I spent
the day dreamily
shaking them
like a cup of dice—
wondering
if I could harvest hope;
wondering if
one day
you would return;
wondering if
un-granted wishes
arrived like
a still-born?
I buried the forked
bones in the yard.

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