she was headed t’ward
the dreamer’s pit
the holy hearted canyon
pushed a wheelbarrow filled
with harboured bits,
some muck, yes, but some
ripe cherries
some ruby lumps she’d found
and long the way
some wheel comes loose
snags on rubble and rock
& how these treasures scatter
somehow, obtuse
matter for anyone
who hears, peers twice
with hands to grasp

and they weren’t meant for yours

but just slivers of ruby
just red stone peels
just fragments