Helena, Montana

If you lie back on the rocks just right, you can see bones in the
stars.

But if you stare too long, the moon becomes an enormous bone
and the truck you drove becomes bone and your skin becomes
bone and then your bones become bone.

Once everything in the world is bone, there won’t be a need for
conversations or love or money or friends. All we need to do, then,
is observe our new journey of becoming dust.

When we are dust and mixing with one another, we will only have
the brittle memory of what it was like to be bone.

Adam Crittenden holds an MFA in poetry from New Mexico State University where he was awarded an Academy of American Poets Prize. He also serves as an editor for Lingerpost, Puerto del Sol, and Apostrophe Books. His work has appeared or will appear in: Whiskey Island, Bayou Magazine, Metazen, Matter Press, > kill author, and several other journals. Currently, he teaches writing in Albuquerque.