of bovine clatter gathered

in our dresses we crowed proudly

over strange desert treasures

curved ribs water colored

into pirate swords from oceanic

worlds & our trophy haul a sun-bleached

canvas bull's skull for a still life

blessing to hang on a wall

we parsed and lay each claim

to some remainder of the remains

after finding the best to be sold

lemonade stand-style at the side of the road

but cars barely slowed as we waved

swords For your children our cardboard

billboard said & by sunset

we still had all our bones laying down

in our beds in my hand

I still feel coarse splinters

of the land I thought bones

would be more like teeth You should not

play with these in the house the adults

did not understand those old bones’

muted glory holy relics

of the ranch I grew up

& know now those bones weren't

worth dirt but in my child eyes

those old cow bones held mysteries

still had a spark of life & I know

one day my bones too will be forgotten

flake when I'm dead I’m no saint

no relics these I'll take

all my bones again to bed