rock of two mouths :: luisa a. igloria

Each rock here has a face:
inscrutable, not even looking
at the water which threads
through the silence
in the only way
silence can possibly be
allowed to sing;
not even looking at the clear
light that flickers like each
day’s votive candle—tinged blue
in the mornings, washed
grey or trembling gold
in the lengthening
afternoons. A hand
carved these hollows in stone.
They open their mouths
lined with moss and clover,
inconsequential weeds and wild-
flowers, that we might write of secrets:
of ways to woo a heart that has stood
too long, gaping first at one side
of the river, then at the other.

From Sweet: A Literary Confection, Issue 2.3