My bones no longer carry me well

Posted on: February 7th, 2013 by jmbroekman 2 Comments

A longer poem from Janet Loflin Lee

My bones no longer carry me well

My bones no longer carry me well,
my body a bag of fog, bogwater and bits of string.
It is a winter heaviness,
like all northern people I look for the returning light.

I am compelled to sleep in the day,
more than a nap, more than a cessation of movement –
a hardening of body, soul and thought.

I have always entered into winter with a hunger
for that china plate blue sky,
the gentled muffled sound of snow –
cotton falling on cotton.

But now I yearn for an early mardi gras of color
an infusion of warmth,
a sense of movement that precedes dancing,
a slower sun, an elongated day
An afternoon that is not evening too.

I park myself by the window
following the arc of the sun.
Work undone, projects abandoned,
I have become a hoarder of light,
storing up against the dark folds
of the January nights.


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2 Responses

  1. Janet Lee says:

    I love the progression of these drawings – each one a story unto itself, resonating with the stanzas but not limited by them. Beautiful work.

    • jmbroekman says:

      Thanks Janet,
      I really loved working with this poem, there was already so much color in it!