I am rolling bones in the heavy of my hand
chasing them across the sky and reading what I find
when they land

they fall in awkward piles
sharp and twisted
animals that god never intended
to be made

but
if I talk fast enough
they come to life

slowly at first
lifting a little
off of the ground
until they are walking on unsteady souls
and broken bits of leg

They are tiny perversions
whirlwinds that were never meant to spin
split off and twisting
despite the wind

AcB 11.27.01