The bone in the ice cream, picked out, held
the startle of it, the catch in the breath,
the queer blare of bone, of bloodspot
is where something twittered away—
When it melts, ice cream is a thrill of rivulets,
but the bone is blade-like
Bird bone, finger bone, hollow as a flute
caress. The bone in the ice cream is terrible
and aches the teeth. How the face hurts
on the cool, the strange, the gruesome truth
What cruel hand or wing, lopped and swirled away?
flute that sings the sweetness away.
From THE FINGER BONE (Carnegie Mellon University Press, 2002)