2005 Caveat Lector Poetry Contest: Honorable Mention
Jeanne Stauffer-Merle
[Total Pages: 3]
Stauffer-Merle Page 1

Birth Stones

i.

I'm climbing down to the beach again
reaching into your old basket
dropping pebbles carefully behind.
As the sand hardens to slab
                the air deadening to wall
I forget what these stones are.
Will you hold me in your arms?
                They say nothing:
                         dark and inscrutable
                         like everything beautiful
                         poisoning every hand they
touch
                         killing even the birds.




ii.

You stand holding my hand
my hand feeling
your fingers feeling nothing.
Your father face hovers above:
a dead moon,
eyes dry craters.
Your soundless swell
squeezes me
until my lips my ears like yours
are quiet.
Silence
isn't soft and empty as air
but rock.