skunk stone
Before I was born peoples set concrete
slabs all around the tree near my home. They're
long gone. The tree grew, pushing all that street
rock up, four broken teeth wedged in the air.
Yaw ways smile; like all man-made gods. Last night
the skunks moved in –– three kits and their mama.
I find, being lonesome, that I delight
in all who show up. If there's a Buddha
of Small Souls and Single Mothers, maybe
then she's blessing me. Or, maybe, they're just
passing through. Either way they're safe today
between this slab of skunk stone and brute tree
root. Please stay, love, here is refuge and trust.
Peoples, they preach. Let's seek a different way.









