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Terry Miller
poetry
MOTHER WAKES
​
she looks out at the white birds
perched upon the night-black backs
of angus cattle but does not recall
their names—morphine tells her
to call them angels
day melts from the sky
like candle wax—colors
cloudy as the eyes
of hollow men
faces hover over her
nameless—questioning
she has no answers
she searches for only sleep
to fall from the dream
into a river that will take
her somewhere—anywhere
FISH BONES​
​
“What tale did you sever
to be where you are now?”
- Jane LeCroy – Mermaid
​
on my tongue—a spike of remembrance
white pole of soul—I spit onto my finger
somewhere in this body are the bones
of fish—an inheritance of travel
down the path of circumstance
and change—the body knows
more than I give it credit
a gene of sea bass—perched
in my eye—a word of prejudice
spoken by my father—lodged
in my ribcage—next to my heart
a mile from my brain
