portion of the artwork for Michael T. Young's poetry

Skipping Stones
Michael T. Young

It’s a studied balance of angle and tension,
speed and force married to chance,
of how these surfaces rise into steeples
and all the staircases spiral. But also choice,
a stone rounded with a slope tapered
toward its edge allowing for the grace
and glide of angels skimming clouds
that thin and thin into an air so rarified
we call it a kind of heaven. A place like
the horizon that ever recedes from us
as we travel toward it. And if we’re
to carry this message the full distance,
reach toward that length we all aspire to,
the congregation’s prayers must sink
at just the moment of our passing,
finding their place among the minnows
and trout that dart from the splash
like a bursting star, its rays pointing
toward the shore all imagine will,
one day, receive them, its reeds
parting in the ripple of their arrival.


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FRiGG: A Magazine of Fiction and Poetry | Issue 59 | Spring/Summer 2022