published in Cumberland River Review, Issue 7-1, January 2018
Breastbone Ode
by Judith H. Montgomery
Think gladiolus: not the loud flower flaunting its frilled petals: bee-worthy, beguiling. Not
the armful of flagrant blaze, but that interior sword-lily, our hardy armor, pale bone shield
buttressed by clavicle and rib, our tender heart’s defense—manubrium, gladiolus, xiphoid process—
Greek and Latin names for handle, body, sword- tip. O valiant breastbone, anchor for our ribs’
bony branches as they lace up the pierced cage that guards us against injury, buffers our so-
vulnerable organ against accident (steering-wheel’s wild lunge, oak branch’s blunt spear, some stop
sign hurled from hurricane or heaven). Let us honor the body’s gladiator, our sturdy buckler
as we cocky ever-adolescents whim and wing from rock to ripple, daring disaster. Praise each
our humble breast-bone, sternum, gladiolus, whatever name we give it—our best defense,
our bulwark, our necessary intercessor.
