The Stone-Spinners

Books stretch along the wall   
In the quiet room.   
At your feet lie
Rounded-by-the-sea-stones.
Still holding the rolling sound,  
Of the returning tide,  
Like shells,

In their longing for the sea.  

The way a broken heart longs  
After a time for love.
For love and loss  
Are at the heart of
Rounded-by-the-sea-stones.  

In the river between us 
I spin flat stones.
You send each one back  
Curving the trajectory
With the scallop-shape  
Of your hand.  

Each stone cuts the surface
In a flash of skips and turns.  
We move along  
The river-bank
With the grace of Greek youths
Throwing discus or javelin.  

Stone-spinning stops
When one sinks slowly
To the sandy bottom.  
Over time
Amber underbelly water
Moulds the sinkers into

Rounded-by-the-river-stones
And offers them to the sea.
For movement and stillness  
Are at the bottom of
Rounded-by-the-river-stones.  

In the quiet room,
With the river flowing between us
We come to know stones.
Igneous. Sedimentary. Metamorphic.
Sisyphus. Oedipus. Artemis.

 

                    Anne O’ Malley