He is a smooth stone pillar
He is a pleasant tranquil tomb
I turn cloudy
like earth yawns from the bank and
breathes into the current

Slide over, slick
claws graze the pebbles
face the wall
face the spring
feel the echo of his eyes
resounding in space
Warm sunlight cools on my back
Ripples in the ripples
in another stream
from me

I don’t skip stones

Gray crustaceans stir
and rile his surface
I am the worm in the gut
I am in the temple

My tread remembers moss and mildewed wood
And even gravel leaves its scent with me.
 

 

 

 


Carter Makice is a freshman from Bloomington, Indiana, studying art history and anthropology. He likes making friends, sharing stories, and giving hugs, among other things.