Riverbed Monologue

Even I could make weapons here.

Basalt and flint carefully chipped
into tools of flesh,
pointed drills
blades and scrapers.

Blue-black granite
already smooth and molded,
perfect for the crush and grind
of wild grain into flour.

Or maybe to bang out new poems
for stream-still big-mouth bass
because some days evening comes too slowly.

This mica-sparkled stone I will keep to myself
just to catch the sky in broken pieces
preparing for the time I can piece it back together

whole

as reflected off still water
where newly emerged mosquito
gather strength on sand.

Jennifer VanBuren graduated with a BS in Biology from American University, an MEd from Temple, and one in Instructional Technology from Lehigh. She lives outside Baltimore, Maryland, with her husband and two children. Her poetry has been featured in Erosha, CleanSheets, Poetry Superhighway, Literary Mama, and Word Riot, as well as in print with Poetry Motel, Free Verse, and Midwifery Today. She has a web site, mannequinenvy.com, which features poetry, photography, and art.