— of a world preparing for war,
collecting hate as rain forms a pool
in the slightest depression of slickrock.
Invite the world in.
Grasp the world’s fear
roll it in your hand
until the edges smooth,
then return to the world
that which comforts any hand,
a blue gray river stone.
Take the poison, chew it
like the Inuit woman chews seal skin.
Chewing takes time, a winter undertaking.
We have plenty of darkness.
Catch the rawness and place it next to your heart
in the pocket you have sewn just for this purpose.