Stones

Stones

I've dispensed with the last of the unamed stones

These small monuments to moments now missing

their histories have moved often with me

These things inanimate saved

in fits of sensitivity to symbol and shape

in forests, on beaches, in riverbeds, on trails

down cliffs that have crumbled into dirty seas

no longer glittered of treasure

Dull in today's light they bore little claim

to meaning but weight

So much is gone

but not your last roses

I have kept at least one from each time

you have come to me with your love

flowering and today I took pains

to lay them away without labels

or other archival information

Light and dry as thistle in my trunk

they are infinitely more portable than the stones'

cold weight as is this sense of bouquet

that I have today that will certainly last

through some other day

when even their thorns on first sight

will dazzle my heart with your own many facets

-Cella Coffin