top of page

what my mother does for a living

what other bones do we collect? none so intimate
as teeth i think but when my father met his age replaced
his hip with another my mother the physical therapist

convinced the nurse to smuggle the original joint out 
in a biohazard bag & kept it in the fridge until the ground
thawed enough to bury it      months later when the sky began

to leave early again we unearthed it with a gentler 
curiosity than most hidden things bear      with inquisitive hands
my mother began to know the cartilage and the tranquility

         it had left
         in its absence      the uncushioned shadows of youth
Originally published in After Happy Hour Review

Rhiannon Briggs

bottom of page