Cabochon

The agate is a broken clock, telling
a story once true of time. Centuries
of pink, an age of grey, blues of
infinite. The clouded tides sweeping
some tiny cavern of rock, testament
of its own antiquity. Mineral, force,
sea: each inclusion a consequence,
banded brilliance, sediment bright.

I think of that house—its broad lawn, punk trees,
rooms sunken with not saying what must
be said. Quiet that was not quiet.
The host rock breaks up in the end. Free,
the gem can be found, polished, a treasure
transfigured from mud, time, and pressure.

back to issue

Caroline Maun is an associate professor of English at Wayne State University in Detroit, Michigan. She teaches creative writing and American literature and is the Director of Graduate Studies. She is the editor of The Collected Poetry of Evelyn Scott, and author of Mosaic of Fire: The Work of Lola Ridge, Evelyn Scott, Charlotte Wilder, and Kay Boyle. Her poetry publications include the volumes The Sleeping, What Remains, and two chapbooks, Cures and Poisons and Caroline Maun: Greatest Hits. Her poetry has appeared in The Bear River Review, Third Wednesday, Peninsula Poets, and Eleven Eleven.