Katherine Cash
I want to be a rock.
a small one,
In the mix of gravel-
packed closely together-
Like we are meant to be.
Never mind that I shall be ground to dust,
As long as, you are ground with me.
And maybe, under us, something will grow
Through us it will bloom
And maybe,
If we are shaped oddly enough,
Someone will pick us up-
A curiosity of sediment
And while independent,
We will be examined
Perhaps kept in a jar,
Or a box,
On a windowsill,
In a heart,
Or perhaps they will grind us to fine dust
Against each other.
A chalk of our own making-
A marking we leave upon one another.