Glory
By Grace Sutphin
from a line by Ada Limón
We looked up at the unruly sky, its clouds in simple animal shapes
we could name, and we waited for that unmistakable changeling
Little goat, little sheep, the ready belly of a bird.
At Saint Mary’s we released balloons to correspond with Vatican
smoke, the sun’s light wavered but its heat was tireless
Our red thumbs fixed to the bases of dandelion heads
Mama had a baby and her head popped off
Mama had a baby and her head popped off
You tried to hang me on grandpa’s clothesline in Chicago after
ham sandwiches The wind pushed on my sunburn and your
hair teemed with secret lice There was yelling from the
window I looked out over the lake There was a mercy
detectable while yours reclined Your mood ring glowed
violet My feet stayed on the ground
We washed our hair in the lake The hot lake the hot lake
Lightning by the standing house Calling to the black log turtles
Rotten crab apples we like to be cruel to Funny and boring and
beautiful The buttons on your skirt The stiller the distance up
I think about the dogs we counted against our sky
and their gnashing teeth