Photo by Patrick Fore
Encased
Lizbeth Leigh Jones
I’ve heard it a myth
that coal inclines
to a diamond
under enough pressure
over time speaking
roughly
But I must know
if I lie beneath you
as still as water
pulled facing toward
the mosaic moon
who turns away
daily
Will the ratio crush
my bones all to silver
my blood, crystalline
my flesh, coral conches
my eyes, twin opals
marbled hands veined
with twisting gloss
Or will I be mined
for a star-pronged fate
in a velveteen setting
or smitten to salt
for a backward glance
only to find myself finally
encased behind glass
So feel me withstand you
one chord in a silent wake
and still the pulsing
of the cratered tides
will pour me out
as fractal libation
all is wave
and wave
and wave
Lizbeth Leigh Jones
I’ve heard it a myth
that coal inclines
to a diamond
under enough pressure
over time speaking
roughly
But I must know
if I lie beneath you
as still as water
pulled facing toward
the mosaic moon
who turns away
daily
Will the ratio crush
my bones all to silver
my blood, crystalline
my flesh, coral conches
my eyes, twin opals
marbled hands veined
with twisting gloss
Or will I be mined
for a star-pronged fate
in a velveteen setting
or smitten to salt
for a backward glance
only to find myself finally
encased behind glass
So feel me withstand you
one chord in a silent wake
and still the pulsing
of the cratered tides
will pour me out
as fractal libation
all is wave
and wave
and wave