My hidden set of struts and joists

Memento

Bad rap for the bones. More permanent
than muscle, hair or blood, they lie alone,
memento mori always. We praise heart,
cuticle and spleen, but say it, bone,
and there's the slightest knell, word you intone
rather than pronounce, and in our art
the skull however rendered is a stone
to swallow, stern reminder to be smart,
waste not a moment, taste each grape, repent,
smell the coffee and the roses, telephone
your loved ones, think of how your light is spent,
Be in the Now. The skeleton's a drone
and best ignored. Meanwhile, my hidden set
of struts and joists, stroll on. Forget. Forget.

April Lindner


I recently read this poem that I like a lot, and then looked up some information about April Lindner. Apparently she is local - teaches in Philadelphia. And has just published a Young Adult novel. I'm going to read more of her stuff. The Internet is wonderful.