Andrew picks me up in his truck and we go out to the boat launch to launch his boat and he pulls gear in search of halibut while i stand there and take photos and sway on sea legs through my mind

yesterday i strung
small orbs, matte gray
labradorite, onto dusty
golden yellow waxed
twine. i’ve never been
too dextrous, so
struggled with the small
knots i tied fore and aft of
each small stone.

i had to connect
more than one
piece of twine,
in order to complete
the stringing of these
small stones. worried
at the strength of
these connections,
i tied double and triple
knots, singed them
with a quick bite of flame.

once finished, i
placed this circle
of circles around
my neck. it hung
down between my
fleshy chest, down
past my sternum,
bringing a portion
of my heart into its
oblong grasp.

too long,
it feels
too long.
its swaying,
as i walk.

the connection
of twine i had
earlier worried,
with the multiplying
knots and
transformation of
flame, that is
where the stoned strand
broke, mere minutes
after returning to my
current home.

strand of stones,
matte gray,
now lay atop
a table, no

a woman asks me,
“will you pray
with these stones”?.
“no”, i answer.
no, i will neither
pray nor recite
mantra, though i am
not dumb to the odd
luck of a strand
of stones,
too long so as to
bother, releasing itself
at a place where
i worried.
allowing me to
try again, to try
to get it right.

Published by Zak

an intertidal island in an ocean of impermanence.

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