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