The Maker, The Mudskipper – a poem by William Littlejohn-Oram

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.

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