MUSED Literary Magazine.
Poetry

Bones

Craig W. Steele

While deftly avoiding chill, wintery waves,
I sift idle fingers through dry, shifting sand,
discovering bones from my lost inner fish
within the confines of some cold-blooded graves.

One question that’s raised by those bones from the beach:
Is skeletal progress a blessing or curse?
Regarding our limbs as extensions of will
insures that our grasp can exceed our best reach.

______
Poet’s note: The allusion to “my lost inner fish”
refers to the 2008 book by Neil Shubin,
Your Inner Fish: A Journey into the
3.5-billion-year History of the Human Body
.