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Lilac Bones This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

By NineMuses, Pelham, NY

Small and brittle as the leftovers
of a mouse
long dead
and withered
by this god-forsaken winter;

but pale and hollow
– weightless –
like the bones of a sparrow
polished by the wind.

I pass them each morning, somehow
the only things peeking out
from the soot-spotted snow and ice.

Their leaves are
curled up
in baby's fists;
huddling from the cold.

The fragile smell of lilac
lingers on my gloves
long after I've pinched off the last
of the tight-fisted leaves.

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1 comment(s)
Perhaps my favorite of your works. Lilacs are one of my favorite flowers, which is primarily why I was attracted to the title of this poem. This poem doesn't wander off extravagantly with jargon. It remains delicate and subtle like the sparrow bones you meticulously detail in this poem. Simply gorgeous. 5/5
Jul. 10, 2014 at 3:32 PM • Report