One Stone

One Stone

With selected words from Cesar Vallejo's

Black Stone On Top of a White Stone

I shall be buried on a day only God knows.

On that day I shall speak, I shall say

my name—it doesn't matter who listens, Saturday, Monday,

Thursday—early spring or autumn.

I shall become stone because granite stands.

As I sink my feet deeper and rise up

my shoulders will shrug the ephemeral. Winter may scar

my face, but alone, I shall stand and speak:

He is dead. They struck him, all

the hateful. He meant nothing to them and under

the stick he hit the dirt and closed his eyes, the tip of

his pen broken into the chest.