Healing Cheek

Singing to her own bones

Trying to make them mend

Tapping into that dusty inner magic

That can do no harm,

Probably not do much good either

But there is no other course of action to take

Other than to idly sit in a chair

Near the picture window

With a phone that’s lost its charge

At her fingertips

And a dog-eared book 

That’s been read too many times

And a tall stack of outdated magazines

Covered with coffee cup rings

And a painkiller in one form or another:

Solid, liquid or celestial

Hoping for a cure-all,

Watching the clock watch back

Trying to decide if her best still works

Or if another’s skill is required 

With ice and an answer

As she sings off key, off kilter,

Strange lyrics never written

In Human before

Fire and ice are clashing 

Discord getting louder

And the bones are singing back

In a language never sung before

Meshing and mending the dreams and soulful visions

Of endless possibilities that heal

In an idiosyncratic twist of fate.