"Stone" by Lily Tobias

Two stones can make light,

can fit comfortably in our palms,

become anchors of memory. You

look like everyone and no one

on a family vacation. We sort stones

on the beach, looking for petoskey

and slag. Some stones are round,

some sharp, some smooth,

all formed slowly over time,

held in the mouth of the lake

for thousands of years, then,

finally and freely given

to be born on the shore.

We walk the jetty and pass

the carcass of a large bird,

flesh picked to the bone.

It looked like stone.

I used to worry you’d abandon me,

I memorized your phone number

from a list of emergency contacts.

On your ancient answering machine,

you kept a voicemail of me

over static like crashing waves saying

Hi mama. I’d never felt more important

than last night, when you picked up

a cold hard stone in your hand

to show me what might be beautiful.

Lily Tobias is a poet from Fenton, Michigan. Her poem “Strawberry Interlude” was shown at the 2023 Paseo Arts Association Small Art Show and she is published in Rockvale Review, River Heron Review, The Big Windows Review, and elsewhere. Lily lives in Metro Detroit with her husband, Josh. Learn more at lilytobias.com.