Stones Cry Out
by Henrietta DuCap
STONES CRY OUT
A scream sears
the figure’s face–
myth depicted in grit.
Crystals chiseled into
fingerprints press a grip
on marble muscles
and stone seems to soften.
A dark vein travels
up an alabaster arm,
yet the heart is still
made of marble.
Limbs crumble and fall from
the likenesses of those
thought to be eternal.
Frozen, one moment
Has almost become forever—
But even the rock from which
they were born
was formed in
metamorphosis.