To Lichen

Something’s remains refused
by death, learning to spread; clustered, buckling

in thin grit. Cling
and be low, be

sparse as moments of wholeness, treasured
and severe. Scrapings off rock’s
inner ear that’s heard epochs
   in sound wave striating a sheer
face —

           Cliff snot, brittle
crispness that stays, stays somehow
cloud-coloured, orangish, starved

green: Dickensian waif-cousin to
moss, to plush bedding. Oh, granite trying

to be snow, you sleepless, sleep-
proof, trod on and sniffed
         at reverie —

Stretch.