Smallstone poem for the last day of January



As a boy I loved skimming grit.
Now that I’m a man I spread my picnic rug
by the smallstones so I won’t be overlooked
when having sex. I am an elf,
had a gallstone the size of half a pea
the surgeon said, wincing in empathy.
My sister is the Elizabeth Taylor
of the elven world. Her boyfriends
make me sick and even she found the pebble
Richard Burton gave her ostentatious.
There are no moss gatherers
in our universe, ethics are set in rockeries.
In elf terms, a stone’s throw
is a humanitarian disaster.

2 thoughts on “Smallstone poem for the last day of January”

  1. Josephine, love the last line. It sums up in a tragi-comic way how things are relative.
    I’m not sure if this is relevant to your poem but i’m thinking of a quote I heard last night, something like ‘The small things in life matter more than the big ones’


Comments are welcomed

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.