The mother of lode halved each of her stones
breaking their hearts and scattered them 
among time and states. Attracting moons, 
compass needles, and refrigerators, the rocks 

find it hard to reunite with their genuine fissures 
and planes. Tons of dust can blow by before 
a magnet stuck in some steel trap recognizes 
its Siamese twin was buried in an earthquake 

in Bangladesh in the Fifteenth Century. A Crag 
meditates on top of Mount Rainier with high 
hopes that an eruption will send it to Zimbabwe
where diamond engagement casts spells 

of permanence. Sand compensates around it 
expecting to become a river of tiers
sweating the small stuff on the trek down
a living hell to brick and mortar. A real beach 

empathizes with the Milky Way’s true 
unrequited loves but fuses with the nearest cliff 
only then to reach out to the cold water reef. 
The gravity of a ledge’s loneliness from star 

to core invites the lure of origin’s ore to sculpt
from abandon the energy of artistic masterpieces.