Daphne in Stone

I’ve lost my voice, my tongue is opal:
body limestone dripping in a mineshaft
I’ve become a marble girl, veined with
gold and glitter, but insides hollowed
where the rain of ages accumulates in
veins of ore, I am your pale China doll
eyes sapphire, hair brass patina, skin
hard and cold, my soul shakes, shivers
with every trembling of the earth, and
maple leaves of gold and orange blanket
me in a dress of forgotten elegance, I
struggle to lift a calcareous hand up
in supplication to the god that turned
me to stone – he pushed love, absolution
but I was ablution, cleansed myself of
his shattering touch, when you scorn the
eternal, they do not take well to iron
hearts, and will rectify rejection with
pillars of salt, the angels that saw
Lot’s wife fell in love with her, want
pinioned on adamant wings, so archangel
turned woman to wind worn rock, like I
am trapped, speechless, motionless, a
crumbling effigy of a forgotten whore of
a goddess, Inanna in the Underworld, and
my descent into the cavern floor whiles on
soon I will be rubble, only living on in
the memories of cruel suitors, when the
divine seizes you, claims you, breaks you
you will freeze as well, tree girl, statue.

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