"Mother's Wishbones, No Doubt" represents an actual happening. And, Ruth has the wishbones to prove it—they're scattered here and there throughout her home and remind her of her mother (in a good way); and (in a good way) collecting wishbones of her own has become a tradition.
All furculae with not a fragment
of dried-up flesh or sinew
to despoil their luster—the slew
of them ranging in size from
Cornish hen to turkey. Funny,
I'd never noticed her extricate
one, strip it clean, secrete it
I took possession of those bones,
pried loose some of my own
from birds broiled, barbequed,
fried; primed each, applied gold
leaf. Made more of them
than mother could've ever conceived
—the gilt, over the generations
of bones brittling whole, striking
beneath the wait of wishes.
© 2014 by Ruth Sabath Rosenthal. All Rights Reserved.