A Backward Path to Heaven

I’m an anomaly waiting for
my context, my heart’s ache
every chamber that has ever
held a lamp, for two
stone forts left behind by
empires that fell, that they’ve
outlived well, together we’re quartz
under pressure, voltage makes it
flex, flexing makes it volt,
resonance bolts, thunders about, sounds
what’s felt in the chest,
echoes falling stars, heavens backward
to travel the ceiling of
your world at the rate
of 117 Hertz to alert
some future stranger, since stone
outlasts language, asks what does
this pyramid of us hold,
a body or a message?