I love this rock,

the way it fits in my hand.

It’s granite, pretty sure,

easily turning in my fingers.

Smoothing my skin against my bones.

A tooth of the earth from jaws of dirt.


One side round and the other two straight,

making a soft point like a New York slice.


Thick like a cookie after eons in the Rio.

A dark gray ocean of dark blue ripples.


It feels like I could mold it.

That’s only human thinking.