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Stone, Beloved

Small ancient stone, found,

on dust-choked prairie,

whale-shaped obsidian;

allegories flowing in its veins and channels.


It whispers soundless stories.

Says – listen.


Once waters of a vast river

danced upon my surface.


I held the spawn of fish.


Once I flew high over long grasses

in the talons of a hawk.


Mistaken for bone.


Once I scraped flesh from hides of buffalo,

and hewed the flesh from trees.




When first you pick me up from

the prairie floor;

blow the dust from me with lips pursed,

as though to kiss . . .


When first you run your thumb

along my burnished length,

as a lover would another . . .


When first I feel warm again,

held in human hands.

No mere stone . . .


When first I sense your contemplation on

my shape, my form;

the solace you draw from

the stroking of m skin;


                        I breathe.


                                    I breathe.

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