Missed Geologist
Ms. geologist
whisking roughened stones
far away from my soul
Divining for the slimmest vein of gold.
Sifting through layers of bending time
but finding only my pulsing fault lines.
My branch wasn't steady enough
for you to perch upon.
Like all the rest, you crashed into the invisible wall.
I gather up the thousand stones, misplaced.
Setting them back into their proper lane.
While patching the fault line of disgrace.
Ms. geologist is still digging back in time.
For a pyrite heart and a pair of amber eyes.
Missed geologist.
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