Since a man in a car over a
centerline changed what
we mean by sister
your eyes are ashes in my palm.
I can only think of your
hair now, the red of our father
as a girl I wanted to put
my hands in its clouds.
That man we shared, half sister
you knew a father of him, I knew
he loved Popov,
and when I toast you
tonight, something
cloudless in the good glass
I’ll think how
when cut, you and me,
we run clear.
Stephanie Glazier’s poems appear in the Iraq Literary Review, Calyx and Foothill. She was a semi-finalist in the 2012 “Discovery” Boston Review Poetry Contest and a 2011 Lambda Fellow in poetry. She is the host of “Public Poetry Announcements,” a weekly poetry segment on WKAR in East Lansing, MI. She holds an MFA from Antioch University LA.
A literary and art journal
from the MFA community at
Antioch University Los Angeles.
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