- Stones Skipping Water
Cloth of her body, bones her bones, I saw my mother re-enter this earth, appear in her actual torso, real batik
sneakers, white socks: a prayer with no question, dream before sleep, palate and sound before time. A decade
had passed when she bridged the two worlds like light entering towers as they crumble and spire — desire born
of scaffold and dust. She was speech, she was skin, and a vessel that held the two dwellings. The millennium
gone — flames into air, and like daylight through fog, stones skipping water, she found a way in. [End Page 21]
Laurie Sewall’s poems have been anthologized and have appeared widely in literary journals including Ploughshares, Colorado Review, Hayden’s Ferry Review, Cimarron Review, Poet Lore, The Pinch, Columbia: A Journal of Literature and Art, and many others. She received an MFA in poetry from New England College and an MA in counseling psychology from Lesley University. She currently lives and teaches in rural Iowa.