Analysis of Fine Bone
I am but a broken piece of China.
A chipped teacup, an imperfect saucer.
Fractured bone exposed too young too deep to save.
Then, at once, you lift me to your lips and I again have purpose.
Roses bloom and blush on the veined porcelain of my flesh, the flawed surface made new by my lovers steadfast grasp.
I am but a piece of China.
A chipped heart, an imperfect soul.
| Scheme | ABCDEAF |
|---|---|
| Poetic Form | |
| Metre | 1110101110 011101010 10101111111 1111111110101110 10101101100111011011111011 11101110 01110101 |
| Closest metre | Iambic heptameter |
| Characters | 373 |
| Words | 77 |
| Sentences | 8 |
| Stanzas | 1 |
| Stanza Lengths | 7 |
| Lines Amount | 7 |
| Letters per line (avg) | 41 |
| Words per line (avg) | 10 |
| Letters per stanza (avg) | 287 |
| Words per stanza (avg) | 71 |
About this poem
Thoughts on fragility and healing what cannot be repaired.
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"Fine Bone" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 30 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/170464/fine-bone>.
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