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Spadina Literary Review  —  edition 39 page 13


Granite Baby

by Esme Noelle DeVault

granite baby
never meant to be.

so tiny —
just an accidental dew-drop
precariously balanced
on a fingertip,
timeless —
but never mine,
just left behind.

I think of you
misty, evaporated
drifting off and away.

yet, at the same time
hard, like a peach pit
stuck in my throat.

I swallowed,
but you didn’t go down,
my granite baby.

perfectly carved
yet smooth
like a worry stone
I carry
in some pocket

wish it had a hole in it
so maybe you’d drop out
but you don’t,
connected by some unyielding chain.

my granite baby