kerry rawlinson

Eternal

like a rock.           I crave a coat
of moss, shoes of mulch & clover,
a lichen hat.        I’d like mice

to bud their nests         in my belly
button, mushrooms to flourish in my
crack            pine trees to sail their rusty

cones            into my lap. crows could
smash snails on my thigh, bees dance
on my kneecap         & fledglings

practice leaping          into space
from the nubs of my sun-warmed spine.
I’d like to be tickled            by the toes

of hurrying ants           salt-licked
by cashmere goats, nuzzled by a doe’s
velvet tines, kissed          by starlit mists.

I want to grow old           like a boulder—
but oh, the world! crushing… crushing.
a desert             encroaches, inescapable:

erasing all fates.            it whirls & wafts
& wanders, settling into fissures, rifts
and destinies.              dunes line the ribs

of rusted vehicles, pile up            in skeletons
of abandoned tanks. I crumble, crumble
& vanish, eternal            as fistfuls

of sand.