Amethyst

by Landon Charlebois

 

A sober stone,

a temporary pillow for a bleeding head.

A crag outside of the bar or a

friend’s apartment, a place for a sneaker to

stick.

 

Slick sober stone

rubbed smooth, pummeled by your thumb,

a faceless coin.

Two years hiding in your pocket, compacted

diamond.

 

Is it hidden?

Even a companion might not know until it

breaks their tooth, buried in their bread,

Eating spaghetti together on a Tuesday night,

a bottle of wine for one.