Ossuary

[Todd]

Leanne,

I always come to a poem like this one and think what does this mean, and then I'm carried away by choices in diction, certain phrases, and I find myself less worried about puzzling it out and more interested in being moved by the imagery. I'm not sure how this will work as a critique but let me give you some of what I was considering as I read.

It is the bones.-You use a lot of Christological imagery and so from the title to this line I began thinking of tradition. Specifically, I considered Matthew 23 and the idea of the Pharisees being whitewashed tombs, beautiful on the outside but inwardly filled with dead men's bones. That wasn't on the first reading though. The first reading reminded me of tar pits and animals preserved under the surface. The phrasing made me think of structure. We're meant to move to carrion but there's still this idea of young and old and surprisingly it plays against type as the old is what is overcoming the new. 
 
It is the rattle and crack of what remains--didn't like the "it is" repetition here. I think it might be stronger just starting with "the" This is a wonderful line though. I love the use of sound. It moves away from skeletal structure to remains. Crack could imply injury but to me it read more like carnivores cracking the bones. There was something more threatening implied than just age--though it is subtle.
as the caws of the corvids scrape across tar,--I love the alliteration here. Corvids is a great word.  I don't know how I feel about the caws doing the scraping though it sort of works for me when I join it to the later crying for flesh.
crying for flesh; feeding their young.
 
The young remain
forced into the thousand crosses--Thousand feels like one of those hyperbolic large numbers to represent an innumerable amount. Nice break on remain. So to hook the young to Calvary there is an implied sacrifice. I don't get a redemptive read from this but I do get a sense of substitutionary atonement. A sense of the young being sacrificed for the old maybe--possibly a metaphor for tradition grinding young innovation or creativity.
of Calvary; bound as the countless
virgins frozen under the hands--really this image and phrasing. The religious imagery of virgin mother/Whore of Babylon. This idea of binding the young instead of freeing them. There is a sense that this is what's being sacrificed in the Ossuary.
that will raise them to whore.  
 
Our nests are thorns dipped in gold.--Again a sort of crown of thorns reference. Maybe a sense of materialism a lavish consumer life style that actually causes harm rather than giving comfort or community.
Old temples crush the new--Another reference like above, a cracking of bones. Tradition, the way things have always been crushing the new and defining what happened in a positive way.
and call it charity.  Images line the walls--Iconography, Plato's forms
of the grave.--and we likely mistake this grave for something else.
 
Miracles run black over--Like the tar above. I distrust these miracles. The palms being withered make this seem more like an aged conjurors fortune telling then something we would call a miracle. This is the burrying of things deep beneath the surface. This is also something being called charity.
withered palms; the sheep eat the shepherds--Great progression. Sticking with some of the earlier allussions. The shepherd was eaten by the sheep metaphorically. It's an interesting reversal. This rebirth in mud is less ascension and more degradation.
and are reborn in the mud.  All eyes turn
to mirrors: the images diminish.--They can no longer perceive the nature of the grave.
 
When you see the blow, you know--Nice little rhyme.
it is not for you.  Your hands are pressed--Yet it sort of implies that the blow may hit them anyway.
together and your ears are filled--Nice break sort of an Isaiah thing this people Keep on listening, but do not perceive; Keep on looking, but do not understand.
with dirt.  We are not crows, to sift
through filth to thrive.--We should be above this. A call to live above these things. Nice
 
In the end, it is not the bones
but how you break them.--It is not the traditions but how you break them. 

I'm sure I may be going away from your intent. I enjoyed the poem though. It was an interesting read that captured me for awhile.

Thanks

Best,

Todd