
my attraction to hard, born through a lost memory,
existed,
created who I am.
an unusual warmth from the simplest of minerals I’ve grown accustomed to, need
and cannot explain.
I greet them, inspect
place them in my hand
and slowly they enter,
my pocket. Mine. My anchor.
each time I revisit the Rockies
the desire arouses
matures, alters in strength,
becomes habitual.
these rocks, their immensity
I want to claim as my own,
every year unwilling to ask
I leave, unbecoming.
*What I Would Have Shown You

