r i g h t  h a n d  p o i n t i n g

 short poetry  short fiction   short...uh..art
 

 

     
  Mark Cunningham

Rock

 

When you scrabble for
a handhold after dark
or stumble in weeds,
 
this answers
the question, does
anything exist if
 
you don't see it?
Break it, pulverize it,
it still grits.  Maybe
 
more.  Paleolithic
tribes knew:  this
is cutting edge.  The
 
night lights you use
to predict the future
are already a million
 
years out of date by
the time they snag against
the least catch of gravel.


 

 

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