Stubborn as Stone

I sent my love a naked lithotint,

gold print on stone. 

He says I’m a kind of rock

plants grow on,

a stone swallower,

rock borer,

fossilized fruit,

a concretion in his veins.

I assert that

for my fire I have flint,

to furrow the rows of my garden

I have a small stone adze;

live and worship in a stone circle.  

A stone that falls to earth I become

phosphorescent when heated.