Tea and Poetry

Bones

There are 206 bones in the human body –

I know this because my biology textbook says so.

But what I don't know 

Is why I am considered more beautiful

 When all of them are on show,

Like beads in a Lady's necklace 

Or maybe teeth in an executioner's knife.

There are 206 bones in the human body –

I know this because I counted them 

In the bio lab, with a plaster skeleton 

Hanging in front of me.

And I said to my friend,

"These bones are familiar."

I'd seen them on TV and in movies,

On a couple hundred magazine covers.

But those bones, they aren't mine

When I was younger,

I used to wonder whether they should be.

There are 206 bones in the human body –

I know this because I can see almost every single one poking out of your skin.

But I guess I'm not human because 

My bones aren't like yours.

My bones aren't exentions of the stem of a wineglass.

My bones aren't wearing skin-tight suits – no,

They are covered in muscle and fat.

My bones aren't sharp. 

My bones aren't teeth for my skin.

My bones are friends 

To the rest of me and when I fall

Their padding cushions me 

And their strength helps me to find a way to stand up again.

There are 206 bones in the human body –

And none of them need their home to be five kilos underweight

For them to find it beautiful.