Stones

We have no limestone to whiten
Our water in bubbles,as in boiling
Nor is there a mud wall of  brown
For whitening with broom fingers
Loosely lying about in pure white.

There is black granite for temples.
We make gods and their houses.
We can't lay them under our feet
Even when they hurt in blisters.
We have art and poetry to make
Our pretty gods with  buttery feel.

We use  stones for restful sleep.
Some times we do turn them over  
To find several creepy creatures.
After the sun rises they make us
Feel warm  in our tattered shirts.
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