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