Friday, February 19, 2010

wishing stones

I can feel my body

throwing sparkly stones

into blue wavy water.

I bend at the waist

and place my hands around

a daydream, heave that rock

into the waves. 

I was longing first, I'm sure,

and I'll be longing last.

I was the one who walked

down a sidewalk

convinced it had turned into

a yellow brick road.

Could you please remain,

despite my foolish collection

of wishing stones,

piled high and towering over us both.

It was my fault.

My skin may change from red to blue to black

and back again,

but promise you won't notice

these phases.

Cling to your ideal

and wield it into a kind of love.

You would tell me to stop it,

but it's in my nature to keep going.

It's quiet here, on a simple shore

where I am keeping company

with silent horizons 

and the rocks in my hands.

I would walk into the water

and let them weigh me down,

finally sinking to a floor

where the only friends

I would find are dreams I tossed.

Nothing but hope separates them

from the surrounding stone.

It's not lonely here, but I miss you.

I'm letting my ankles get wet and muddy.

And I'm trying to throw all those 

idilic plots and plans

back into the sea.

It's hard to both wish when you throw

and let go when the stone disappears.

I'm watching them splash and sink.

Hard as it may be to watch them drown,

I know it's either them or us.


  1. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to hear you read some of your poems aloud

  2. ask alison i read to her all of freshman year. we should all do that.

  3. its magical.
    the only way they should be heard.
    now that she has read them to me i read them to myself in her voice.