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.
Write something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview.