misunderstanding about stones.

We printed monographs on stone
textured edges facing facts.
Our perspective met by
reflections on rust
in shadowed layers of grey
on Coca-Cola rivers.

Speak away,
I can’t bear the corners
of the shocked fault lines
or the smell of the last
three nights,
camping at Stonehenge
where the spirit of the water
wolf joined hands with ours,
feeling our way
through midnight.