1/31/2021 0 Comments Poetry by Beth Copeland Fred Postles CC I Dream I Have a Hole in My Hand Not an exit wound or stigmata but a porthole. Holding my hand over my eye, I see the mountain framed in a rose window of vanished bone. The opening is both telescope and microscope. I see stars up close and magnified cells of blood floating like lifesavers down a river of light. The hole is a halo around each broken stone, each wing feathered with ice, each holy leaf limned with gold in God’s infinite eye. Beth Copeland is the author of three full-length poetry books: Blue Honey, recipient of the 2017 Dogfish Head Poetry Prize; Transcendental Telemarketer; and Traveling through Glass, recipient of the 1999 Bright Hill Press Poetry Book Award. She owns and operates Tiny Cabin, Big Ideas™, a residency for writers.
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