I love, I’m loving now, I’m in love with,
a stone—one that careens and jumps and lives.
It shines green in the sky, shaggy with moss.
It is a muddy walnut made of black
water that cracks when I reach toward it. Moon,
my rock, your shell is black and brown and broken.
When I was young my love was huge and monstrous
like the dark lake that lurks beneath this town.
My moon was stone and liked to keep his clothes on.
He didn’t want to be touched too much.
But I was happy; I had no limbs at all,
just endless skin to fill his calloused hands.
Marshall Mallicoat is a poet from the Kansas River valley. Their poems have appeared in Queen Mob’s Teahouse, NY Tyrant, Electric Literature, and elsewhere. Marshall lives in Chicago where they work with computers. You can find them online at marshallmallicoat.com.