(Or, How Trump Wants Us to Behave After January 20, 2017)
We are the couch potatoes of rocks.
We just sit there and pray someone notices.
The waves always ignore us.
We are everywhere but nowhere
as exciting⎯flat, round, and small⎯
in shades of dark grays and dull browns.
We don’t glitter gasps of quartz,
show off our striped lapels and hues,
or gleam spectacular patterns of color.
We’re just little guys who’s never had
someone tell us how worthy we are.
Agates and amethysts get all the attention.
We’re always too afraid to ask for a caress.
We keep dreams of darting among your feet
to ourselves. We often ask why we exist.
If you ever walk near Black River Harbor,
please cradle us for a few moments
in the sun. If you don’t mind, please.