Stephen Fuller *** Poetry, Essays

Moon Ate the Dark Challenge: Twisted, Toasted Bones – Stephen Fuller

Moon Ate the Dark Challenge: Twisted, Toasted Bones – Stephen Fuller

Moon Ate the Dark Challenge: Twisted, Toasted Bones – Stephen Fuller
— Read on braveandrecklessblog.com/2020/03/04/moon-ate-the-dark-challenge-twisted-toasted-bones-stephen-fuller/

Deviating from a track laid fair for the week at Fullbeard Lit, I share with you my submission for Christine’s Moon Ate the Dark challenge. She says “Twisted, Toasted Bones” reflects a dark maturity. In many respects this poem does reflect a phase of growth between being possessed by darkness to allowing the light back in; the time when the body and soul must rest, protected by something to keep the dogs at bay. I hope you enjoy this and see how it fits into this week’s sequence of poems.

Twisted, Toasted Bones

Smeared dark jelly on twisted, toasted bones
Lain in the dirt to bleach. Had to dispose of them
Somehow, so with closet full I set out into wilds
I’d forgotten were so much fun in my youth.

Why the jelly, one might ask, don’t the dogs eat
Even without extra-seasoning? True, they do.
Yet, what if I wanted them saved for a different
Consumation? I did, so the dark jelly, canine’s hate.

Made it up out of the fat on meat carved off
Stories I tired of telling. Rolled it in spent coffee
Beans, needed it more bitter than a bite could take.
So when the gelatin bubbled free from the fibers,

Distillation began. Nothing to stew remained.
So here we are old bones, here we are,
Lain in the dirt to bleach, too bitter for dogs,
Maybe, before day, the moon will eat the dark.

22 Responses to “Moon Ate the Dark Challenge: Twisted, Toasted Bones – Stephen Fuller”

    • Stephen

      🤓🙏🙏🙏🤓 thank you Barbara, with this community there is always light, yours shines bright in front of me 🤓🙏🙏🙏🤓

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply
  1. ivor20

    You’ve definitely laid your old bones out open for us to view…wow… and old Ivor found the finale stanza was a tasty morsel ……
    ” Distillation began. Nothing to stew remained.
    So here we are old bones, here we are,
    Lain in the dirt to bleach, too bitter for dogs,
    Maybe, before day, the moon will eat the dark.”

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

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