The Bone Puzzle

Curious.
Who put her together there?
I look down and marvel at my own
ape hands; my reflection in the mirror
is that of a carnival weight guesser. I’ve
aged almost sixty years.
I wonder how long I can exist like this.
As this. Requited for a one time
birth, a makeup drink,
pennies in the brown hands
of a man ordering pizza
as conquistadors in copper helmets
storm civilizations, establish ruins.
Someone finally will
envelope
Me. Yes. My pants will be pulled into the
ocean as I sleep.
The Words
will crowd around the light
like moths. The grove
of the dead will sing their anthem, and
What will happen
to the memories of rooms? Perhaps I’ll see them
as cells under a microscope, dyed brown, diamonds,
hexagons.
Houses?
My friends and family
will all be mannequins
wearing my clothes like costumes.