Hollow Ground

You shattered, scattered
pieces of her unbound love to
inseminate the jaded stones
growing in garden of your heart.

So she became fruit for your fear,
to make wine for your sorrow,
while you drank from bruised breasts
of her loneliness.

In time you grew new roots,
rock hollow,
as her plowman began
to till
your soiled death,
exhuming residue
on bedrock where she slept,
unassimilated.

Shapeshifting rudiments
for the potter's Wheel,
her orbit is refined
by the diamond
that fell into your rough,
unclenched from your hand.