gold
as a wedding band.
But it doesn’t shine
in my hand.

You can paint it
red
as blood.
But it won’t flow.
It makes a thud.

You can paint it
green
as clover.
But it only sits.
It won’t come over.

You can paint it
wearing a smile.
But it’ll not be happy –

It doesn’t have eyes
to look into mine.
It doesn’t have a mouth
to sing a note.
It doesn’t have arms
to hold me close.
It doesn’t have feet
to climb the mountain.

I lost a man from this planet.
He lives now under
a slab of granite.
Hard and gray as a stone.
All that's left of him are bones.