A Rock of Nova Scotia

This massive rock, size of a small pillow, sits on my living room floor.  

It's just so heavy I can hardly move it.

It's the rock D fell in love with at the lonely beach 
in Nova Scotia many years ago.

He carried it stumbling along the shore, about a mile, to the old car

as if it was his whole future

At the end of that summer the rock crossed the border 
and came into our little urban life

where the voices of tides live only in its memory

“What would I do with it when ...?”

I have blurted out once and swallowed the rest, but it was too late

Hush fell in the room

like small flakes of dust,

on my guilty neck, on his sloping shoulders,

and on the massive rock of Nova Scotia

The rock still sits on the floor

cool and mute and unbudging

while the cat and I, the outlived,

prowl about in the house every day.


Seriously, 
what will I do with it?