No matter what pair of arms
tries to warm me
I am stone.
For him, I melted into a sphinx.
He rubbed his fingertips raw on my
I gave him the word “no”.
I gave him riddles I did not even
know the answer to because the only desire
I could fulfill was the gift of a quest.
But I will be gone when he returns for his prize.
For some I am a pillar,
they run their hands over my ionic curves.
I do not move or speak.
They search for depth where there is none
they walk themselves around me while I am
rigid, holding up buildings against
the pressure of the sky.
For you I am a statue.
You grab me whole and drag me
to your Pygmalion’s workshop.
My marble clothes billow against a wind
that does not exist
and for a moment when you touch me
I breathe, and shudder.
But I am a mountain
still made of stone.
I have myths in my valleys and
mysteries on my peaks.
I am too vast for any two hands