Stoneman

A stone knows not
other stones. It’s
called and cobbled thus.
A silence so neatly
proffered, so broken,
when it obliged,
when it’d hit and rushed.

There,
a silence; hush!
A split,
and above all-
left none, none there’s
except,
that’s a cardinal fault.

Stone and man
melted,
laid together till the madder’s rush,
thus
making blood.
Making street
beggar’s sweet dreaming

wistful, clot cold
on
cobblestones.
Before screaming,
news,
before
the morning jolt.