on the pale crumbling parchment
of last year's leaves

with a ballpoint pen,
patiently,
whetting its tip
on my tongue

ink reluctantly
catches in cracks,
breaks in places,
makes mistakes

on stone
like glaucous chalkboard,
slated by glaciers
just for this purpose

with a shard of green glass
found smashed at its base

each scratch
leaves a sharp white scar,
leaves tiny grains of glass
in my english