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Poetry | April 2011

Green Bones

By Rebecca Rogan

Soft green bones
of growing things
are easily distorted.
She runs through open doors,
can’t help herself,
she’s a horse,
jumping flower-bed fences.

Come in! I yell
balancing milk bottles.

She stands steaming
kicking her hooves
as I wrestle her
into her uniform.

3 replies on “Green Bones”

Tanya DeBuffsays:
April 6, 2011 at 7:45 pm

This is lovely. Soft green bones…an enviable line! It’s really great how all of the poems for today converse.

Reply
janet dembsays:
June 20, 2011 at 4:27 am

I read this poem on the last day of spring when “soft green bones” were all about and I was delighted by it.

Reply
Judy Ryansays:
June 28, 2011 at 6:07 am

Rebecca, this is so lovely, and reminds me right away of my granddaughter, Laurel. She’s 11 and is on the cusp of being a different child, but your image of the girl who “stands steaming/kicking her hooves” will stay with me, and will always be Laurel. And the phrase, “Soft green bones.” Thank you for sharing this will all ov us.

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