Size / / /

I call the pebbles

broken by ice,

smoothed by water and time.

I call them

from the beds of dying streams,

from the unsuspecting gardens.

I call the gems

from the necks of fair ladies

and the crowns of kings.

I call them polished

and faceted.

I call the cursed and the blessed,

the rich things stolen from the earth.

I call the once-living,

the tiny carapaces

and bones of man-height.

Arise and stand forth, unblinking

in the sun of another day.

Remember the taste of living flesh.

I call boulders

spat out by glaciers,

cast down from the heights

to languish.

And I call the cooled lava,

the pulse forgotten

in the flow of stone.

Nor have I forgotten

the mountain ranges and great rifts

that break the land,

swallowing the veins of rivers

and giving rise to other streams.

All these I encompass

in my calling. All these I summon

to rise up and bring fire,

to dance creation on the fragile

and the unmindful.

These are the old gods,

shaking existence beneath my feet.

Shy and nocturnal, Jennifer Crow has never been photographed in the wild. It is rumored that she lives in the woods near Buffalo. Her work has appeared in a number of print and electronic venues, including several anthologies such as Ruins: Extraterrestrial, Desolate Places, Jabberwocky 3, and Sporty Spec. Her blog is located here, and she may be reached by e-mail at
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