Allan Crosbie
The Stone
Locked across the hole,
I sat and dreamt of movement,
remembered Sisyphus. I wanted to roll
forever up and down an endless hill like that.
In my wet creases the first spores of moss
gathered - it was warm at my back
as if the deep earth breathed.
The garden watched me.
When they came it took three of them
to shift me. The cave sighed over my shoulder
and they were all sick at my foot.
They dragged the remains past me but returned
to place these bloodied hand-prints on my side,
patting me gently as if I’d done the right thing.
Allan Crosbie teaches English in an Edinburgh comprehensive school. He was a runner-up in the 1998 Arvon/ Daily Telegraph Poetry Competition and in 1999 was awarded a Writer’s Bursary by the Scottish Arts Council.
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