Make No Bones About It

And now
I hear
that Mr. Bones

is objecting
totally unbone-like,
stamping

his feet
no less,
just

because I
have changed
Berryman’s death

from an
icy river
to a hot building.

Mr. Bones,
I do think
you

are getting
quite brittle
in your old age.

And having
survived your master
by thirty years

you are
in a bad mood
and the poetry

that comes
out of your mouth
proves it.

Go on Mr. Bones
before
these

one-story
Papalote buildings
collapse on you.