in this story
the woman
speckled grey
doesn’t at first
realize that
fingers all the way
to shoulder are
changed to rock
doesn’t pray
for marbling to
end, feels not
blood like clay
hardening in the kiln:
and slowly it goes
till mica replaces eyes
till protolith
becomes crystalline.
Beautiful blog, Congratulations!!!
why thank you friend! happy to have you as a reader!