Obsidian Poem by Curtis Goodnight

Lying in the house of chaos and love
where the morning melted around me
and like a random piece of obsidian
one rock among the gravel shores
i await the glacial inevitability.
What choice does that rock have?
all blackened smudge
and flinty edged.
I know my diamondness to be a long ago or future flung thing
so i do what rocks do...
i sit
i wait
i see the glacier looms above.
If she chooses:
i could be rolled, spun and polished
til all the star glazed threads
and iridescent planets
of all the arctic nights would find my embracing mirror-
and impatient constellations would jostle each other
for their time
to strut before such reflection
If she chooses:
i could be ground to dust
laid down as fertile loam
or borne stratosphere high on the breezes,
mixed with the cosmic wind
to light the arctic sky
and look for my mirror
on gravelly beaches.