Stonework is published by Houghton College, a Christian liberal arts college located in New York’s rural Genesee Valley. Stonework seeks a diverse mix of mature and emerging voices in fellowship with the evangelical tradition. Published twice a year, the journal reflects the arts community at Houghton College where excellence in music, writing, and the visual arts has long been a distinctive.

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  • Issue 6
    Poetry by Paul Willis and Thom Satterlee. Fiction and interview with Lori Huth. Essay by James Wardwell, and student poets from Christian campuses.
  • Issue 5
    Poetry by Susanna Childress and Debra Rienstra. Fiction excerpt by Emilie Griffin. Art from Houghton's 2007 presidential inauguration and a forum on women writing.
  • Issue 4
    Matthew Roth--new poems. Diane Glancy--from One of Us and an interview. John Tatter-on gardens and poetry. The Landscapes of John Rhett. Stephen Woolsey--on the poetry of Jack Clemo. James Wardwell--on Herrick.
  • Issue 3
    Poetry by Julia Kasdorf, Robert Siegel and Sandra Duguid. Fiction by Tom Noyes. The portraits of Alieen Ortlip Shea. An anthology of Australian Poets
  • Issue 2
    Thom Satterlee - Poems from Burning Wycliff with an appreciation by David Perkins. Alison Gresik - new fiction and an interview. James Zoller - Poems from Living on the Floodplain.
  • Issue 1
    Luci Shaw — new poems with an appreciation by Eugene H. Peterson & Hugh Cook — new fiction and an interview

Wednesday, December 05, 2007

Desperate Times

~ Eric Potter

And what would you have done

if it had been your daughter dying,

if you had spent all your days

and every last denarius on doctors,

quacks who took your cash

then shrugged their shoulders

while your daughter drew closer to death?

At last I was desperate enough

even to go to the Jews.

He wasn’t much to look at,

though he could draw a crowd,

and if half the tales I’d heard were true

he could heal a troop of daughters.

I could feel his power,

palpable as his contempt

and the Jews-only sneer with which

he snubbed my request,

but I could see that he loved

to bargain, as sharp a trader

as any of his tribe,

so I made a counter offer

(and threw in a low bow).

He produced a clever comeback

about kids and dogs—

Christ, what a casuist—

but I gave as good as I got,

tossing back his talk of breadcrumbs.

A deal struck, at last, I turned to leave

but he began extolling my faith,

a transparent effort to save face

for relenting to a Gentile and a woman.

I let it go. Why bother haggling?

My daughter was healed. I’d won.