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When he awoke the divot
in his side was already
browning over where
the hand slid in, rummaged
the muck of his insides,
tore muscle from sinew,
then the green-stick snap.
It made a sound like a mud-stuck foot freed suddenly,
as gore-covered, bristling with gristle, drew out the bone.


It lay on the sand, posture the mimic of a boar's tusk.
He prodded it with a stick,
as one would his own excrement, sniffed its length
to register the scent, sifted
its hair in his fingers
knowing that it was once a part of him somehow, knowing too, he would have to feed it, listen to its yammering, even kill for it.

He built a fire, piled a palm frond with guava, uala leaf,
and coconut grass
to see if it would eat.

For its part the bone bent itself to the bole of his back, put an ear against his flesh wanting again the familiar rhythm, the didact of blood pulse, the wet dark.

Very interesting,deep and will require more reading. On the surface I see a wounded soldier,but then I not sure.

Oh yes, very good, deep.
I like.

I like the writing, and the tale is intriguing. I confess, I don't know what is going on though. Probably me.

Entirely the fault of the writer. It's God making Eve from a rib

Ah, Adam and Eve, now this is working. I think perhaps it would aid understanding if their was a stronger clue in the title.

Great concept. Oh, knowing that changes things....Dale has a good idea...give us a strong hint in the title

OK. Ill think of something

I don't think you need a clue, it is obvious to anyone who has read the Bible.

A more obscure poem, very much more obscure poem,
of about 25 words won the IBPC about a damaged
tree which represented the loss of a family member
I think it was a daughter.
And yet nothing was said of the death at all,
it had to be inferred.

I feel so strongly about this, and that is why I nominated it for this month.
I think it is one of your best poems on par with the whale,
but a tad better than Jonah, just a tad.

If you have to give a clue, and I don't recommend it,
use 'She' instead of 'it' in L10
then no one can miss it.

Maybe mention the mirror image of man.

People rave about Emily Dickinson about the repressed sexuality in her work
and yet I struggle to understand even when it is explained by the author
of the book writing about her.

It is raw in places, but I like that. There's a savagery but also tenderness.
I might even write one on the same theme.

Ty Frank.