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
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.
Hi Marisa, shouldnt you have a comma after "earth" in the penultimate line? Somehow the scansion doesn't jibe with the rest of the poem. Maybe "phoshorescent" is too long a word.
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