Cupped in the belly of my palm
this grit-ridden
hand-held cave you gave me
right at three years
appearing on the outside like pale skin
after leaving sunscreen an oil spill in the pool
and burning
patchy and bronze
although I took silver
each time your voice rose a flame
in the gust of its crescendo
the gemmed insides of this Earth piece
looking too much like the shards of glass
that would explode iridescent
in fist-fights with paper walls
fragments gleaming like ice crystals
daring their toes over the edge of a roof
leaving accident’s name a mosaic of wine
all over the floor
and my jaw hung open
as wide as the geode’s
only its jagged teeth shimmer
rather than break
when in opposition with force.

This rock-body knows rock-bottom
replacing softer limbs
that had once retired themselves
like scissors that fit right in with my hands.
I am trying to relive a good day
the beach right before my eyes
this jewel-thing beaming white under the licks of the sun
glimmering like the salt of sand
and solstice iced over the delicacy of sea itself
reminding me for the last time
of when you were nice.

I swing my arm behind my back
and give this geode a fair chance to sprout bird wings and fly
make its place
amongst all other
shiny ocean fixtures.