K.R. Copeland

PLANT A BONE
        From the old wives' tale, 'Plant a bone, grow a person.'

You'd think I was planting any other thing--a cypress tree, a row of pink Begonias, but, oh no. I'm kneeling here, my sack lined with phalanges; a few of his, a few of mine--little ones, which we will scarcely miss, digging here, my blue jeaned-knees wet--kissing sod, laboring away at the firm earth, turning dirt in cervicular circles. The moonlight spooks its way across the night. I reach into my little tattered satchel, grab the spindly digits, drop them in the world's cool womb--cover them with love, and loam, and longing.

K.R. Copeland is a widely published Chicagoland poet slash Pushcart nominee, with a passion for the environment and all its inhabitants, from the greatest of whales to the tiniest mites.