A sharp jab into my heel— 
I pull off my boot hissing 
and shake out 
a grey stone, unassuming, 
one of many, and yet 
I look and I look 
turning it over and over 
one sharp edge to another 
and it spoke in face after face 
of calcified hardness 
till it wore mine and said, 
“You will find 
no friend in me.” 







Sharing this poem on d'Verse open link night #353