Beneath the Surface

By Katie Frazier

Beneath the surface—

The hardened spine of hope that holds her up,
Stiff between sagging shoulders;

His rigid god, where childhood faith fastened strings of scarlet muscle,
Birthing motions terrible and great;

Boyish idealism too bright for this world
Blooming on your knuckles, raw with fighting,
White with fear;

The drive to be remembered lifting my jaw upward
Although my finger bones are small,
Easily broken,
I know.

When life decays our softer selves,
These bones remain.

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