By Alison Stone
At the core of every tale
we seek to understand or enter
Earth’s dark body. Each attempt to tame
our mud-smeared hands, to name
a song more frightening than the glaciers’ melt,
less cryptic than the wind’s lament,
lasts only until ripe moon ups the ante
and the oceans rise to meet
her open mouth. What does fire mean,
its bright tongue ardent as a love-sick teen?
What stories can convince us Not too late?
Published in Dazzle, Jacar Press 2018