Poetry of Terri Glass

Yellow Tulip/Red Tulip

I just want to be yellow tulip,
cupped and sunny with a simple stem.
I want to feel the March rains
to wet the deep furrows
in which I live
and the sunlight unfurl
my curled leaves that I have held
so tightly to my stalk.
I want to nuzzle the petals
of the red tulip, to hear the
language of flame and fire
to my pollen hushed whisper,
so I may return every spring
more brilliant in hue,
more vibrant in color.

Down to the River



Everyday I went down to the river,
knelt and drank the fluid home
of copepods, tadpoles, periwinkles
and my eyes turned inward,
dazzled a dark light
deep into my chest.
There my heart turned into
a forest of long reaching willows,
tall as redwoods, leaves glistening
like silver splinters of the moon.
Each leaf housing hundreds of junebugs
that pulsed a score of miniature heartbeats
creating a wave so large,
it rode over my body and I swear,
the sound of the river
became the sound of two cranes overhead.

An Angel


Not just an angel
a nymph on the water
a speck of color
translucent wings
dark eyes in the middle.
She could tickle
without touching
brush the sunlight
without melting
she was lighter
than white silk.
Delicate, delicate
she would rise
out of nowhere
sing the song of insects
summer on the lake.

He tried to hold her
in the light
stretch her wings
to see a pattern.
But she dissolved
upon his touch
Leaving only angel dust
upon his fingers.