Bone Chimes
When I wouldn’t sing
they plucked me naked.
I slipped my skin.
Pecked bone-clean
I clatter madly.
In the garden
you can hear me
hanging from the tree.
*Julia Stothard lives in Middlesex and has work published in various small press magazines, webzines and in the 2010/11 Ragged Raven Anthology.
