Poem

Love, gentler than rock tongue

Mar 2025

You do not hatethe shape of hairtangled, lathered, or slithering in rose shampoo, so you neverpray, only offerdroopy-eye dogs, fat songbirds, limping grandmothers, to showhow tender you are, howgently you move

each sculpture into place. You want to be softened. You want puppiesto have floppy ears and songbirds to sing without screeching andgrandmother's wide eyes to be relief that she doesn't ache anymore, youhiss so sweetly, loveso gently. Gentlerthan rocktongue, stoneship, granitecrinkle. If Perseus is bound to cupyour head in his hands, you

want to be held.You want to be sculpted,wearing sunglasses and a pretty red veil,to show off your scales and bruised black tongue. How elsecan you know heaviness,like polar stars, deep nightstucked deep into another,fear, like flesh

without armor — You've never seen through thethick gauze, grazedthe tingling of runningblood. How else can you know weight, the crushingweight, of a head on a hand? You are no stranger to the sentimentof stone, its cruelties