Sentinel Stone

by Lydia Harris

Admits no moving parts, no swivel
is not level with me
we work together, woman and stone
it cannot be borne, too big to carry

I have to probe its beginning
sun was there for sure,
the stone sheds its own light
watches from four faces, shifts its shadow

offers a way up and down
is bewildered in fog
when I walk the power of the stone
is the snipe I startle, the mud I print

I hunt for a way in, Dear stone
a nub of lichen flaps, one grain shifts
door I dare not enter,  you knew
it would happen, spelk lodged in my palm
seven degrees out of true