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.