Sticks and Bones, by Betsy Mars

Untitled, by Zdzislaw Beksinski (Poland). 1984.

Sticks and Bones

In the end, intertwined, 
ball and socket, fitting.
Double-jointed and anointed
in the thin shroud of their skin.

Scars and old wounds
are healed over –
salved and resolved
under protective cover of love.

Joined at hip and shoulder,
still connected even
when all else is stripped down
to bare bones

still warm, in love’s glow, as sunrise shines
on tendons, and the knobby spine 
and ribs form brittle branches 
on the tree of life.

Betsy Mars

This poem was written in response to the sex and art surprise ekphrastic Valentine's Day challenge.
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Betsy Mars is a Connecticut-born, mostly California-raised poet, educator, mother, and animal lover. She holds a BA and an MA from USC which she has put to no obvious use. Her work has recently appeared in Verse Virtual, Praxis, and Anti-Heroin Chic, among others.