Something is shifting
things unsaid sliding back and forth below the rock.

Out over the canyon, you can sail and feel the space
maybe even forget for a while about the pebble
hiding in the boulder, the stone in the shoe.

Yet under our feet the foundation rolls.
The earth beneath us grumbles with malice

itches, peels back its skin, the crack wide and teeming
with contempt that bleeds from the wound

until it is drained leaving the indifference of a cavern
the apathy of a chasm, stretching on.

Mary Anne Griffiths is a poet and fiction writer living in Ingersol, Ontario, Canada. She shares space with a husband, a tortie and tuxie