Grace
You have taken every bone,
white cupped in your hand.
As simple as breath eased in
and out you carried each piece
in turn and laid me down.
The night opens time;
tiny bubbles explode to
flow a soft body into my skin;
sure hands reconstruct my face.
I ache and boneless
keep still in case I break.
*Francesca Pridham has written poetry for many years exploding into fame with her pamphlet Red Jam (Crocus) 2000. She is also the author of The Language of Conversation (Routledge)
