Ossuary

[RiverNotch]

there's a whole host of sounds and images here that feels just perfect, but otherwise this feels directionless. not ambiguous -- this is sort of ambiguous, i think, but not in a bad way -- nor lacking in narrative, in the sense that not all poems should have a narrative, but the central argument here, "it is the bones", is left, it seems, to stand on its own. "it is the bones"....what exactly is it? "it is the rattle and crack of what remains..." which could very well be what "it" is, but the sounds and images coming from those lines show that they are meant to be yet another detail of it, not an explanation of what "it" is, or how "it" relates to anything.

* - below: also, though "crying for flesh" sounds strong, and "feeding their young" feels like a necessary image, the two together and not properly fused just diminishes their power.
It is the bones.
 
It is the rattle and crack of what remains
as the caws of the corvids scrape across tar,
crying for flesh; feeding their young.*

and then the next two stanzas. i think "images line the walls / of the grave" crosses the line, in that such a host of macabre images can eventually get cloying, so that i think the point of that sentence would be better stated directly. also, the comparison between the young and the countless virgins feels nonsensical, since in this case i think virgins implies young -- and these logical nits do grow heavy, especially in a poem that seems to rely more on an argument than a narrative. but otherwise, these two stanzas are lovely work, and if it weren't for the sonics in the previous stanza, i'd say the poem really starts here.
The young remain
forced into the thousand crosses
of Calvary; bound as the countless
virgins frozen under the hands
that will raise them to whore.  
 
Our nests are thorns dipped in gold.
Old temples crush the new
and call it charity.  Images line the walls
of the grave.
 
and these two stanzas don't need much changing (i think if "images line the walls" were made more direct and less macabre, "the images diminish" could still work), although that presence of a third**, now totally disconnected "it" does return me to my original problem. there are definitely lots of solid sights and sounds to this, and if i were more industrious i could spin out an interpretation of all this based on one thing or another, yet that would i think be too intrusive to a piece that claims to say something (it is the bones --- it is not the bones / but how you break them) but ultimately doesn't (again, what "it"?). i'm not exactly demanding this mean something external, as in the piece crystallizing around some Christological or political message, but again, "it" means nothing even to the internal logic of the poem, and with everything hanging on "it", that lack of meaning breaks the entire piece.

**fourth, although the third "it" was buried in the middle of the line, so i don't think it has as much thought.
Miracles run black over
withered palms; the sheep eat the shepherds
and are reborn in the mud.  All eyes turn
to mirrors: the images diminish.
 
When you see the blow, you know
it is not for you.  Your hands are pressed
together and your ears are filled
with dirt.  We are not crows, to sift
through filth to thrive.
 
In the end, it is not the bones
but how you break them.