Poetry of Terri Glass

The Miracle of Love

The bloody miracle of love
is what I want
where the “I” dissolves into
an acrobat of color
tumbling into a field of tulips
or a painted desert.
I don’t want to leave this world
of shape and color.
I don’t want to leave
the oasis of imagination
or the dream of the earth
for I am made of clay and granite,
dandelion seed and a hawk’s feather.
I freefall, I rip open
and out pours a turquoise sky,
out pours rain clouds of grief.
I am all Northwest and Southwest,
a crisscross, an upright cross,
Jesus bearing the cross-
I want to return to
the bloody miracle of love..

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.