Lith

I don’t speak. I don’t
Sign on my own. I
Should not have a voice
But I do, to you.
I turn rose at dawn.

My scarves of old snow
Blush, my blue-black cliffs
The tint of sea shells.
I smell like wet rock,
Like sun in the cold,

Like a thing that could
Live, that holds up life,
But is not a life.
Out in the skies, Mars
Pales. You’re up there, love,

A chunk of my world.
You, too, are not life,
But you move. You search
For signs life was there
Where you are, in rocks

Like me, the hard bits
Spewed out by a star,
Like both of us. We
Who don’t live, make life,
Love. Blink once for no.