dig through bones left behind
when you’ve stripped away
fat
and bulk, skin
and shape

re-assemble them as you wish —
don’t feel obliged
to retain original shape —
trust that those who may see it
will see how it was and still
understand what you’ve made of it

for the sake of the overburdened
leave off the prattle
about beauty, soul, heart, crystalline visions,
exhortations to action,
overripe distinctions between
your varied sexual arousals
and the stink of your psyche’s
rotten moments

make the bones
do those things
instead
through the suggestions
they offer
of what you intended to say

(it should be noted
this advice has nothing to do with
ars poetica

it is the nature of metaphor
to make the thing it does not describe
more obvious through the subterfuge

you should know that)

for the sake of whatever you do
and believe in

stop making your profession
of those things
so complicated

make the bones the pure thing

we all carry enough
of our own remains with us
to dress them ourselves
from our own stores