A daily reading from One Poem Only—a quiet space for a single poem, read aloud.

Ugly Bones by Ella B. WintersElla B. WintersBehind the dusty radiator,green splashed like bloodspray in a B-film, from that timewhen you decidedto paint our bedroomin the middle of the night,I keep my poemshidden in a puce manila fileso unremarkable, it chameleonsinto the background, pink tongueunfurling to swallow my wordsinto the shadowy crevice.Mostly, I don’t want youto see them, as though,in the starkness of the earlyhours, when our wallsdemand another change,they might reveal my uglybones through the translucentskin. But sometimes, I forgetthey’re there, as well. Imagineleaving them behind when wemove on. Who will I be whenunsuspecting tenants pull meout word after word like a magician’sstring of endless gauzy scarves?How will they piece my naked bonestogether? What colour will theypaint the room?

More from Ella B. Winters ↓

• @ella.b.winters on Instagram
• @ellabwinters on Substack

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Poetry reminds us what matters. Thank you for listening.