I Was a Heavy Stone

He enters the room as ivy climbing up an oak,
bright scarlet pouring upside-down, burning

beneath the still greens of branches. Always
holding on for a shinier chandelier or maybe some

of the poison from the boughs, the one who says
She’s a lost cause… at the time she is. One to flash

a gaze to turn all roots silver, exactly what he needs…
now lonely line before him, the darkness between stars

prevents him from wandering too far, too far, red
tide ebbing under red moon. Fish can’t sleep tonight,

and that’s okay, he isn’t going to let moonbeam tails
dive into the blackness without him …Except gliding

along the meniscus doesn’t feel like tambourines jangling,
only her barnacled arms slapping salt into wooden eyes.


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