Spine and Ribcage with Only Heart and Ghost 

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

If he were just his skeleton except

For soul and heart, the winds would churn right through

Him chilling heart and spirit, spirit swept

Right through with breezes in the spring and blue

With cold in winter.  Hurricanes would come

And blast his ventricles with pangs if love

Were part of autumn.  Heat would thrum

In August of the heart and you would shove

His soul against unnecessary bones.

The ribs would hold him in but only just.

His chest would hold you in with withered tones

But you would free yourself with one false gust.

  A torso cage that offers nothing save

    A soul and heart is worthless as love’s nave.