one more stone.

wholly lady i speak

eating air beside,

the tree whose blood of mine

grew upon.

like Medusa eyes

of stone rolled under mine,

I knew I had hid

from you all;

i could not

stir the moon-thief

in my strange dreams

who knew the gives

of i want,

turning one more stone

here is the bud.

© 2021 All Rights Reserved.

15 thoughts on “one more stone.”

      1. I always do enjoy reading your interpretations. I find poetry beautiful in that way; I don’t think it always has to be right in what the author intended for the most part. Only just to see how it impacts the reader… Well, that’s enough for me. 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

  1. Though we are beautifully alive this January, this poem heralds the coming of spring for me. I read it as one might read a treasured book; word by careful word, savoring the experience of turning a page or rolling over one more stone in preparation for the next silvered emotion.
    Thank you for sharing this!

    Liked by 2 people

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