I. Red Stones
Against the eroded rock
her comeliness
shone like a curded moon.
"But nothing is like you here," he said.
The big lake jabbed bright water
cold as knives
into the scooped red holloow
of the rock. "Your tears are salt," he said.
But he cupped red stones in her hand.
"Keep them," he said,
"to remember that we came."
She turned and turned the polished stones.
Summer and winter are gone
and he. She turns
the stones, and over and over
she tries to remember what he said.
II. Shell
Shell of a mollusc
Hard as stone
Greaved, groined,
Color of ash-
Souvenir of
Nothing-
Taken from sands
She had never seen
It evoked no image-
Only itself
And its own lost chance in the sea.