All the love is kept in this little stone heart.
Hear that slosh, a rare geode,
But there must be a leak. No, just air.
The liquid echoes out its own shortcomings
Misgiven when the rock formed.
This little stone heart cannot apologise
For what it is. That its skin is hard and cold,
That its beauty would only be seen if it were broken,
Then the love would seep away.
And this little stone heart believes it has been
Loyal and brave for the last few million years.
Since a volcano took a gulp of a glacier,
Our little stone heart buried itself deep
So as to not crack once.
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Published by alyssiaonline
Alyssia MacAlister is a writer, editor, artist and mother, who lives with her partner in Brighton. On both page and stage, Alyssia is concerned with exploring narratives with a poetic frame, finding the beautiful in the strange. In writing she can find unspoken traumas and the meanings behind silences. Wide-ranging past interests include virtual reality and the female body, spiders and grief. Alyssia’s specialty is prose poetry, but she often works in found poetry and experiments with more traditional verse. In addition, Alyssia writes lucid fiction and essays, while also creating artwork mostly in pencil. She also has a scalpel eye for editing any kind of poetry or prose and can produce poetry workshops.
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