The Stone

Some withered days

your bones are too heavy

to carry

muscles not like your own

your body betrays you.

You lay down,

try to remember how to breathe.

You are so tired.

The stone you swallowed,

the one sitting at the bottom of your stomach

sinking you like an anchor

like a broken thing,

is heavier than you remembered.

I once wished the sun would kiss me

and fill me such overwhelming warmth,

so much warmth I forgot the stone.

Set it down,

you were never meant to carry it.

Last night I dreamt God kissed my face

and I gave him my stubborn heart

in exchange for the stone.

Published in my debut collection of poetry, To Let Myself Go.

(Available through Barnes and Noble, Amazon, Atmosphere Press, and wherever books are sold).