My Geology and English classes have inspired me in two different ways. Geology has taught me the history of the ground I walk on in a deeply moving way, and English has taught me to appreciate the lyricism of words even when they don’t make sense.

Here’s a poem that tries to bundle those feelings together:

Run away with me to a house made of sandstone

Where the quartz will harden and keep us safe

From the smooth, glossed lips of misfortune

Until the honey starts to ooze again

Accompany me past constructed thresholds

Made of monsters and ancient magic

Hollow and eerie and full of life

And kind enough to protect me

Come inside, listen to their whispering

They gossip about molten phases

Cackle into eruption

Die off into quiet weathering

Don’t mind the pebble-encrusted heart

It still beats, see?

The fleshy bits encased in preservatives

Don’t be upset that you’re only allowed so far in

Make amends with the sandstone

But on your blue shirt and slacks

Sneak into the dark room

And be okay when the grains don’t melt between your fingers