Sometimes I long to be the stone—
steady & cool, flecked with silver;
a baby’s kidney palmed
into the fold of a hand.
You say I want a guarantee
& you’re right—
I want you to fold me
into your palm
& stroke the skin of my cheek
with your thumb, over & over.
I want to skim the water
with a wish on my back—
not the sweet ordeal of promise
but a return to you, every time.
Sarah McCall is a poet, yoga teacher, and student of all things wordy and spiritual. She has spent many years as an English teacher, bartender, list maker, and lover of clean, bright things. She and her husband and their two dogs live in Norfolk where Sarah is an MFA candidate at Old Dominion University.