The Maker, The Mudskipper What is a prayer, exactly? Because I want to let the definition include the sculptor with dried clay crusting over his chin and cheeks as he fashions pieces on his pottery wheel. Let prayer be the picking of clay from the fold of skin between the thumb and forefinger. Let it include the clay the sculptor kneads and molds, and draws out into cylinders, his smoothing and scraping out of the skin and tall dorsal of his beloved, the pulling and rolling of eyes set together atop its head, squat and slick as intended, and the feet, I mean the fins—mean the feet—he, the sculptor, shapes from the body with which to set it loose upon dry land, to walk, then swim off into the lapping waves while he, the sculptor, spins another to accompany it. Let prayer be the snap of life wave-tossed against the ocean rocks.
William Littlejohn-Oram received a degree in Fiction from the University of Houston and is currently pursuing a Master’s degree in Poetry from Texas Tech University. He often makes people uncomfortable in social interactions, doesn’t know what to say most of the time, and can currently be found in Lubbock, TX, wearing brightly colored shoes. His work is forthcoming in Inkwell Journal.
Amethyst Review 