I said silk. Years ago. I mean stone.
I said silk for shadows under it my body made-
Guessed rivulets, scoop of tipped lilies, green hollows.
I became, losing my soul in the fabric's fluid,
Undine. He kissed water. I inhabited the weedy shade
His hands wavered in for a while, till I deepened away.
I said language. I mean stone. I asked for words-
Distillations of lunacy the dry rage made
Flickering in his veins at night. Years ago.
I was the burned energy of his pages. I flamed
As radiant as he made me there, and as pure.
I rose in tongues. It was the words stayed.
I said jewels, treasure of earth. I mean stone. Quiet things
Recognized even in the ignorant hand, color
And weight and value of the light they cast,
Or more casually, not for themselves prized,
But for how they bind promises. Years ago. Yet I hardened
At last into indifferent elements, leaving jewels.
I said time. I mean stone. Loss of beauty, wealth and letters
Drew me to time, that matter of space and air
Which seems nothing and is all we have or change it to-
Measures of dark and bright, races, breath
And warm fragrances, cries of hurt or pleasure. Years ago.
Time became hope and then memory as it will forever.
He loves me still. I say stone. I mean stone.
Fire, fluid silk, earth's jewels, the breath of time it contains.
Years now. I say stone. I mean stone.