Dancing with Skeletons

The skeletons in my closet are more like

Old beer cans tied to the bumper of

Some just married couples car.

Clanging loud behind me as I walk

Never letting me forget they are there.

And the faster I run

The louder they bang around.

Chasing me.

Dancing their sickening marionette dance

On the rope I trail behind.

Screaming to the world they belong to me.

I’d cut them free

But they are my children

Bastards of circumstance

Dreams and histories

and they are mine.