and the word was
Terri Muus
1 light shimmering
between curtains, mother’s
salt, my
two-year-old
tongue.
2 a single
note and the symphony—
swell of treble
into bronze,
wings,
the lost sun-streaked
hour, staccato-punched
sky by five.
3 smoke and no
name, smeared
pencil on graphed
paper, mouth strung
with gray pearls, bulging pockets—
secrets, dry
taste of letter-less envelope
on “sweet sixteen.”
4 unzipped carbon
nanotubes, the union
of atoms,
the space after
exhale, light
particles and waves
in ordered
chaos of the universe
by thirty-one.
5 Now—
GOD,
you are
ocean-side waves beating
tilde of sand,
gold tenderness.
© Terri Muuss
originally published in “The Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion”
The BeZine 