Wishbone, wishbone on a dish, pick it up and make a wish.
If I pull the wishbone right, I will get my wish tonight.
Another poultry Christmas, and paltry indeed bantam weighted for one, pullet pulled piece by piece over the fattened feasting days crisp stripped to soupy bones and skin nothing wasted of this small fowl sacrifice, even the whitened wishbone set aside to dry brittle, ready-forked for that tug by two opposing pinkies clavicle cleft from clavicle, the merry thought the who-gets-the-fusion and the treasured wish only then was I struck again, under the breast bone winded, wounded with my loss - the furcula, a piercing weapon, two-pronged with only one to grasp it So I hold to all the invocations we ever made with bones, on starfall, or slipping singly through kissing gates to seal a secret silent plea with lips; always the same one, I can now reveal wished for you Kol Tov* (all good things) - even your death was merciful
*Kol Tov/Kol Tuv ~ hebrew ~ ‘be well’ – lit ‘all good things’
My first and last poem of 2020 until the Spring as I set off on my 6 week travels to New Zealand- and having just enough time to join dVerse for an Open Link Night
35 thoughts on “the wishbone”
I always love to read the way you weave the words into intricate fabrics… but the sorrow of loneliness is always close to the wordplay.
There has to be two for a wish to come true with a wishbone… hope your travel will be great.
I like the notion of the intricate fabrics – thanks for that Bjorn and for your good wishes
Fowl for one is a weeping image, and wishbone for one intensifies it. Your word play in the last stanza was masterful and touching.
Thank you for your words Glenn and for fully understanding
Such a beautifully written piece, I love the cleft and clavicle, both split and together and your loyalty to all the wishes made. I remember the wishbones drying on the window sill for you both to pinkie pull and wish on x
Nicely observed Catherine – still can’t get out of the wishbone habit
Hah! Very clever use of polyptoton (which I learned about from dverse! https://dversepoets.com/2019/10/24/polyptoton/#comment-184782)
Not sure I follow
Oh Laura this is so very poignant. I especially like; “So I hold to all the invocations we ever made
with bones, on starfall, or slipping singly through kissing gates to seal a secret silent plea with lips.” Wishing you safe travels! 💝💝
Thank you for your appreciation Sanaa – and for your good wishes
The best wish even unto death. (K)
Wonderful! Safe journey and happy travels ✈️
Thank you Jude – & Not long now
This is such a poignant poem. Excellent word play.
many thanks for understanding
What fun, a word feast! I love the alliteration and mix dished up.
a mixed dish of emotions too
I admire the detailed wishbone from the fattened feasting days. But most specially the invocations for all good things (even death was merciful).
Safe journeys and happy poeming!
many thanks Grace – I hope the Muse travels with me
I like your description of the fowl sacrifice and the whitened wishbone.
Oh, Laura, This brought more than one tear to my eye.
The depth and weaving of your words to create such a picture with the camera of your mind is ……. I cannot think of the proper word ….. beautifully touching. Thank you.
greatly appreciated Sherwood – as you can understand the full impact of this poem and the loss of Martin
The wishbone rhyme took me back to childhood and my grandparents’ house, where I first heard it. We always pulled the wishbone. I enjoyed all the wordplay and alliteration, Laura, and felt that suckerpunch of winded, wounding loss. I love the lines:
‘So I hold to all the invocations we ever made
with bones, on starfall, or slipping singly
through kissing gates to seal a secret silent plea
brilliant description Kim – “that suckerpunch of winded, wounding loss”. Such times as the wishbone ritual brings it all back and all the days of coping disappear for a while
A beautiful and poignant poem Laura and I wish you a blessed time in New Zealand. The new blog you’ve created looks wonderful and I look forward to following this special journey 💜
what lovely words – thank you ❤
Perhaps the one left with wishbone must pull with both opposing pinkies?! To borrow your words from Hebrew…Kol Tov, Laura.
Yes I had to do that – thank you Lynn for your good wishes
A delightful read.
This poem really pulled me in. But these were the lines that spoke to me most,
“only then was I struck again, under the breast bone
winded, wounded with my loss
– the furcula, a piercing weapon, two-pronged
with only one to grasp it”
The physical experience of loss.
Thank you Ali for your understanding and appreciation
so beautiful Laura , so touching!
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