Bone Flutes

The marrow drains
out of my bones.
The bones themselves
grow thin.

I am a skeleton
strung of milky white
flutes.

I raise index finger
to my mouth and blow.
Finger, arm and shoulder hum.
Cranium and cheekbone
resonate a soprano tone
that modulates
to alto,
then bass,
grows softer,
and fades
to just the memory
of sound.

Again.

I blow down thumb.
Through arm,
down spine,
around pelvis,
down thigh,
I vibrate,
grow softer,
then still.

I am solid.
I am hollow.
I am human.
I am sound.

The wind
blows
through
me.

Does the wind
blow through
birds
as they fly?

— gail ford