Leaverite

Against your angry words
like a worm she writhes,
astonished at the rising of her hard rock secret
set in memory’s amber.

Beneath life’s chirping rays
darkness covers her me place,
where angst rots fecund
and quiet fosters balance.

Rock lifted,
secret exposed.
What’s easy vanishes.
Like a worm she writhes.

She speaks in scattered syllables,
denying any deal
denying any lie.

Stop. Here.

Put back the rock.

Brenda Warren 2015

Note on the title* A leaverite is a rock that you should put back. You should leave ‘er right where you found her. A leaverite. My dad told me about leaverites to discourage childhood’s bulging pebble pockets. My pockets continue to bulge.

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13 thoughts on “Leaverite

  1. oh yes indeed… the happiness of finding rocks that pleases one… had no idea there were rocks we leave alone… well, yes, i guess that can be true…. my yard is filled with every size rock i pick up and bring home…. and i love love love your rock poem…

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  2. This is utterly exquisite: “astonished at the rising of her hard rock secret
    set in memory’s amber”–wow, just breathtaking. And I love “leaverite” and your explanation of it! Though my pockets are always bulging too 😉

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  3. Chirping fosters indulgent secrets bringing easy deals in the amber sunsets of our lives while stopping me here to rot as I speak my hidden past. Just for you Brenda Warren because you know.

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  4. A poem full of strong metaphor.

    I love your explanation of Leaverite: I’ve trudged many a mile with a backpack full of beach pebbles and pretty rocks, my own findings or my children’s – I wonder what happened to them. (the stones, not the children – I know about them)

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