Bones

Written by Jacob Ibrag

Dwindling by the numbers, yet we pray for signs.

Looking around. Scouring for the light. Praying for a

hole in the sky. The bones of the lost rain through the hole

to remind the eye. From the past to the now, linked through

the fog of time. Deja vu washes over the leftovers. I remember

now.  It was a Monday. Twenty years ago. I was crying because

some kid stole my left shoe. I wanted to crawl in a shell and

expire. A foreign shadow appeared before me. Ice cream

man. ‘It’s a cassette tape, on constant rewind. Life.’ I’ve

been here before. So have you. These

bones used to be mine.

Image by Alex Cherry