We collect rocks,
little grey ones with white lines from Nova Scotia,
and you move them around the house.
You make little circles out of them.
They are meeting each other and getting along.
I have collected many things that do not cooperate
and they lay untended deep inside me,
hard, lonely, and tired of competition.
You know secrets.
I should notice your movements.
You know there is nothing to defeat.
Men do not know what good shepherds their wives are,
nor do they understand the cooperation of stones.
No comments:
Post a Comment