I
I am known
by my heart’s green core
as emerald.
I am wrong
in a beggar’s hand
or a child’s.
Out of the sun
I rob that glint
no wind can douse.
Crumpled and dark
unborn I gleam in the Earth’s
swung gloom.
Hone me, only
a diamond can
wear me, only
a simple Queen:
Or a man to be slain
for powdering by grain
in a sachet of green
to soothe his brain.