Katherine D. Stutzman ~ Prayer

It is almost Halloween, and the lit­tle girl is in cos­tume as a bal­le­ri­na: a fluffy skirt of pink tulle, a shiny plas­tic tiara on her head, thin slip­per-shoes on her feet. But no tights because the day is unsea­son­ably hot. The block has been closed to traf­fic; there is music play­ing; the girl’s bare legs flash as she runs. Her limbs are stur­dy and round­ed. Her whole body is small, com­pact, strong. She has been alive for four years. I don’t think she knows her body is per­fect because it has nev­er been oth­er­wise. She plays with oth­er chil­dren in the closed street. I stand in the shade and watch. I, stitched up the mid­dle, stand and look as she runs, as she dances. I know that she can­not be kept here, in this state of unknow­ing wholeness.

Keep her, oh keep her, oh keep her here.

~

Katherine D. Stutzman’s fic­tion has appeared in Harvard Review, Bellingham Review, and Ascent, among oth­er jour­nals. Her sto­ry “Junior” was select­ed by Amor Towles as a win­ner of the 2024 O. Henry Prize. She lives in Philadelphia.