• Vol. 10
  • Chapter 07
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River Stones

Kara M. Angus

I would trade my crushed petals
     my crusts of bread
my river stones
     and all my bottles of tears
for a chance to see
     colors you have told me
arch gaudy ribbons across the sky

I have something to give you  
     it is not my concertina
that begs a penny for each humble song
     it is not my ragged shawl
that tucks over us on a brisk spring night
     it is not even the tortoiseshell moth
that rests like a timid whisper on my shoulder

I will give you my secret:
     I see vibrant colors behind my silent eyes
and when I play music
     the notes float into the world
 lilac and silver
     obsidian and lavender   

As the golden sun yawns on my face
     I feel your bony shoulder against my breast
I press your tiny hand into the curve of my own  
     I reach out to touch a blade of grass

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River Stones

Kara M. Angus

It is smooth and silken like a tender kiss
     I can smell its earthy brew
I pity its ephemeral life
     but what is magical
and I really mean this  
     is that I can see it
tender and verdant
     yawning and eager
just like you on the day you were born
 
A promise like a rainbow
     I will never leave you or let you go

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