Ugly Things.

When the olvine basalt endures Kanaloa’s embraces,

Its black, jagged edges beckon to the waters and clings

To its contours, taking its body and leaving terraces.

I don’t want to be smoothed into tabular

stones, stuck in the unmoving current of the river

But to consumed by your weight, grip, and ferocity

Clawed at my very base and let me

rise into ugly things

Volcanic rock had once emerged from unimaginable

fires and consoled by the waters, accepted into

the shape it had howled out of, climbing out of 

the Earth’s fissures using its nails and somehow