Turn to Stone
. Your weeping has rhythm,
thump,
thumping,
onto my chest. If I had legs, I'd
bounce to your sorrow's beat, the sound of many violins
as they splinter-shatter. But I'm a cold stone,
a legless piece, Just shiny,
angry,
taunting your cry. I lie in
a pool of water, only because
because
because your mouth never closes. Am I a mother,
circle of solid,
hard mass? I want to fist your tremble,
shush you,
turn you to stone as I,
but your noise will never stop. So, I rock
rock
rock
to your beat. Thump, splash,
I roll away.
~ words: April Michelle Bratten, North Dakota (up the staircase)
image: Smitha Murthy (Life Wordsmith)
another blueprintreview stonification:
i am not made of stone |