Skeletons are Skeletons

I once learned that everyone's bones are about the same size.
Skeletons are skeletons.

I have brothers who are doctors. Naming bones.
A sister who teaches. Making a rattling sound wherever she goes.

I have lived with women on fire. Their bones taking them to executive job interviews and important meetings.

I have lived with myself.
Bones rotting in cups of tea or on a computer screen.
Wasting space. Cracking.

Until one day they grew three sizes
bigger than everyone else.
And made room for a skeleton so small.

I shed my skin and realized my frame
wasn’t like yours. I stacked
all of my bones next to yours
and saw they measured differently.

And the smallest skeleton cried out,
making mine glow and shiver.

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