What is this bone, this seizure of porous strength, this strange scratch of leftover animal? I found you in the sandbox at the zoo, guttered rough and disjoint from the whole skeleton that is now nowhere to be found. Children finger the edges of your joint; despite their innocence they know that you are old and missing pieces. Now the sun sharpens its claws on you. Now the empty sand cradles your stark voice. And when I toss you down from my hands, your solitary curve shadows the light with secrets.