Fossilization by Kevin Casey

Our blood-soaked bones 
grow fossilized at night; 

while we sleep,
something particulate,
suspended, seeps
through membranes, 

settles deep
within those posts and knobs
of gleaming ivory.

The soft, surrounding 
tissues ossify,
calcified deposits 
sprout and bloom

in organs, spread 
their chalky webs until 
we’re statuesque, inured.

And then it’s just the waiting
for erosion’s slow exposure,
the sweep and chip
of brush and pick:

cataloged and set
in some eventual display, 
we’re cordoned off 
by stanchions of brass 
and velvet rope.

Kevin Casey

I’m a graduate of the University of Massachusetts, Amherst, and received my graduate degree at the University of Connecticut. My work has been accepted by The Orange Room Review, The Milo Review, Small Print Magazine, Tule Review, Turtle Island Review, The Monarch Review, and others. I currently teach literature at a small university in Maine, where I enjoy fishing, snowshoeing and hiking.