Ribcage claw, hard as steel, grabs the truth from the air.
Left to stir in a wooden box, it emerges to reclaim secrets left exposed.
Like a great gate, it holds firm against all intrusions.
People are walking, their love kept in a tight grip.
Only freed once the skin is gone, to permeate the ground it lies in.
People will come and speak soft praises, and they think their words disintegrate in the air.
But they’re held close, and kept safely guarded, encased in hard bone.
When all is done, and our time is up we will still be grasping at shreds of our lives.
Seeking to hold a bit of immortality, firmly in the ribcage claw.