Who do you think you are talking to, Love asked
when I came to her my stone thrown dress
Sore against the unforgivables of my blemished heart,
molding as mother daughter sister
brother father son and the kin of their sin,
Who in the world and of the world
You in the thorns and
You in the heather and
This is where we can all lie down
together the stones
perfect for skipping across
our marbled pond