The Stone Skimmer
by Clarence Wolfshohl



I will skim these stones
across smooth-faced ponds.

They leave pits on the water
like silver backing flaked mirrors.

When you look to press your hair
or take the shine off your nose,

you will wonder at the chinks
in your face, in your eye the mar

that floats into deep space, or down
your cheek the gash like a mark

of honor for an old student
of Heidelberg. Ah, but they

will shimmer away when the wind
drops and water flattens. You’ll ask

me not to upset the universe,
smile with those float away eyes,

and shake out the mirror like clothing
from the line made invisible by the sun.





Illya's Honey Literary Journal

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