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Home > Poetry >  Bones
Published:

Malak Mattar, Untitled (detail), 2024, charcoal on paper

Bones

This morning my thighbones
were missing, my head

had turned itself around &
since when is the anklebone

connected to the neckbone?
The kneebone to the toe?

It gets worse!
I can’t shake my hands or

feet, can’t throw my whole
self in anymore. Whatever

it’s all about, boy, is a
bad hokey-pokey.

Poetry
I Don't Know . . .
by Humberto Ak'abal
Translated from the Spanish by Michael Bazzett
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Translated from the Spanish by Michael Bazzett
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by Humberto Ak'abal
Translated from the Spanish by Michael Bazzett
Portrait of Gerald Costanzo

Gerald Costanzo is interested in clichés. He has published poems in The Ohio Review, AGNI, The Nationkayak, and many other places. (updated 1974)

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