Magdalena Ball
Magdalena Ball runs The Compulsive Reader. Her short stories, editorials, poetry, reviews and articles have appeared in a wide
number of printed anthologies and journals, and have won local and international awards for poetry (including this year's
Roland Robinson literary award), and fiction. She is also the author of the critically acclaimed novel Sleep Before Evening, a
nonfiction book The Art of Assessment: How to Review Anything and three other poetry chapbooks Quark Soup, and, in
collaboration with Carolyn Howard-Johnson, Cherished Pulse and She Wore Emerald Then. She runs a monthly radio program
podcast www.blogtalkradio.com/compulsivereader
number of printed anthologies and journals, and have won local and international awards for poetry (including this year's
Roland Robinson literary award), and fiction. She is also the author of the critically acclaimed novel Sleep Before Evening, a
nonfiction book The Art of Assessment: How to Review Anything and three other poetry chapbooks Quark Soup, and, in
collaboration with Carolyn Howard-Johnson, Cherished Pulse and She Wore Emerald Then. She runs a monthly radio program
podcast www.blogtalkradio.com/compulsivereader
Rock Cycle
Begin at weathering
physical, biological, chemical
rain, wind, waves
the gradual wearing away
skin, eyes, bones
a slow decay
over one lifetime
or millions.
Igneous, sedimentary, metamorphic.
I've watched you change
size, shape, atoms
your body pressing against
the inevitable freeze-thaw
senescence
plucking a grey hair
pulling a stray brow
following the outline of your drooping jaw.
Hands and knees amongst the rocks
licking the lithosphere
petrology driving your hunger
gerascophobia driving desire
you push deeper into the earth
sentient
unsteady
disquieted
as you dig for a legacy
something to keep you
rooted, and permanent
even as the boulders that seem so hard
crumble beneath the soft mortality
of your fingers.
Begin at weathering
physical, biological, chemical
rain, wind, waves
the gradual wearing away
skin, eyes, bones
a slow decay
over one lifetime
or millions.
Igneous, sedimentary, metamorphic.
I've watched you change
size, shape, atoms
your body pressing against
the inevitable freeze-thaw
senescence
plucking a grey hair
pulling a stray brow
following the outline of your drooping jaw.
Hands and knees amongst the rocks
licking the lithosphere
petrology driving your hunger
gerascophobia driving desire
you push deeper into the earth
sentient
unsteady
disquieted
as you dig for a legacy
something to keep you
rooted, and permanent
even as the boulders that seem so hard
crumble beneath the soft mortality
of your fingers.
