what’s another rock I thought
as I cast a chipped hunk of granite
in to the dark pool at the bottom
of a long-flooded quarry

I watched the water break and ripple out
filled with industrial runoff
and whatever eggs had been left
by insects hardy enough to venture there

it was half-past midnight I guessed
in that moonlight in that springtime cool
picking up another stone
and wondering if I should call
or if it was still too late
even with the time change

a plop and another set of ripples
and the stars that much further
across the sky, Eastern or Mountain
it made no difference

If I’d only a bit more wasted rubble
I could have kept that water broken
until all the heavens had spun
and come almost back around

but with all the other rocks, I thought
in the dark pool at the bottom
of that long-flooded quarry
I must have thrown my phone instead