There are stones in my dreams now
calling to me, reaching out for me with faces familiar but unknown. They want to rename me relative, stone of their own, one that lies buried forever in the earth, stone without wings. I call out for help in the middle of the night, my mouth full of dirt, and I find my dog nuzzling me
to wake up-- but those cold fingers, those eyes...
cheating death the weight of last year's plum-stone in my hand