A hundred men bear one girl’s bones
to catacombs. In her sarcophagus,
loose legs clink against a halfling pelvis,
pebble hard. Through cobbled tributaries,
bearers flow along a riverbed last lapped
by her red waters. Their alabaster cage
rides high and light on sea grass finger tips–
gleam of bone wafts through murk of dawn.
How each man aches to have a piece of her.
Hard bits gift the best kind of forgetting:
No more a knuckle but a worry stone,
marble light and smooth, to be rubbed raw
in the deep pockets of the pious, so many
boys with un-remembering eyes.
Sara Biggs Chaney received her Ph.D. in English in 2008 and currently teaches first-year and upper-level writing in Dartmouth’s Institute for Writing and Rhetoric. Her most recent chapbook, _Ann Coulter’s Letter to the Young Poets_, was released from dancing girl press in November, 2014. Sara’s poems have recently appeared or are forthcoming in RHINO, Sugar House Review, Juked, Hotel Amerika, and elsewhere. She is the poetry editor for Split Lip Magazine. You can catch up with Sara at her website: www.sarabiggschaney.com