Bone of My Bone

Bone of My Bone
Betsy McKenzie

“Reach your hand into my side,”
He said. I slipped my hand into
The warm, living slit, felt the
Broken edges of the rib
Where the sword had passed.
Gingerly, I pulled through,
So as not to jar, them, or
Push them against the lungs,
Swelling and subsiding
Like a gentle tide.

January 23, 2006