Kris Bigalk moves from the earthbound to the cosmic in this devastatingly beautiful lyric poem.
Stones and Stars
Where the rain meets water, this stone beach,
its pebbles, granite arguments that scrape the bare
soles of our feet. You threw the first stone, I the last.
The lake rolled the stones until the sharp edges
turned soft, until their colors shone through – opaque grays,
my dull pearls, strung them on fish-line, wore them like teardrops.
By sunset, you were a speck on the opposite shore, casting
your line. By nightfall, the sky cleared, and you vanished.
The moon hung sideways, a crescent in the sky,
yellow-gold, so close I could see the outline of its dark side,
the one that never turns my way.
I will soar all night, galaxies spread over my head
like a trailing silver scarf. I will breathe in the sweetness
of the rain-soaked alfalfa, tuck a small stone between
cheek and gum, and taste its unyielding.
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