Stones by Alice Teeter


She wanted to know      she asked

not long before she died     I answered

fingers over my mouth     my voice



Forgiveness is a slow slow turn

of many rocks or the same one rolled

again and again      a painstaking look

at the veins of quartz

a test of surface with tongue

see what shines      the dirt and bits

of leaves brought in      the tang of

swallowed grit   between the teeth

the crunch      brittle in the ears


It takes a lot of wary cleaning

the watchful piling up of many stones

to understand all of what you forgive

and whom




2005-2009 Per Contra: The International Journal of the Arts, Literature and Ideas

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Alice Teeter