WRIST BONES
As my father grew older
felt his sap and his belly thickening
he would bring to the table
a small jar of bones
Chunky, in liquid
two bones, greenish, furred
impossibly fractured
dancing on the current
a slow pas de deux
Both deceptively large
in refracted light
one sometimes hiding the other
These were the bones
that had stopped him balancing
twisting,supporting himself
on parallel bars or painting
sought-after oils
but couldn’t stop him
conjuring trinkets from our ears
with a flick of his wrist
About Jennifer Chrystie
Jennifer’s first successful poem was read on the ABC Children’s Hour in the mid-fifties. After a long career teaching science, she completed the certificate in Professional Writing and Editing with poetry as her main focus. Since then, she’s been published in numerous journals including Quadrant, Hectate and Poetix. Her first collection of poetry, Polishing the Silver (published by Ginninderra Press), was published in 2006 and was commended in the FAW Anne Elder Award.
