My Pretty Girl
My pretty girl, don’t you see the rain-soaked gully?
It’s the only landmark you need when navigating
this still-born world, desperately short of pearls
but overflowing with worthless rocks and stones.
I am underground, but you can find me if you listen.
Forget the blurry sky and your hasty words—
we can commune with shadows and blind eyes
and the endless rows of stones that drop from my
impossible mouth, an unlikely but necessary language.