Anna Meister holds an MFA in poetry from New York University. A Pushcart Prize & Best of the Net nominee, her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Barrow Street, The Offing, Prelude, Kenyon Review, Tinderbox, & elsewhere. Anna lives in Des Moines, IA & at www.anna-meister.com.
an instrument he is
tuning, the instrument
to look through
me, the sky said
many of us told him
with stars, less is
plenty of cake
I look down at the cake
I got, shattered
glass, glitter for angels
who upped the moon-
light, fruit-crowned
eruption like millions
of tomorrows
who told me god
was personal
they look more alert
now, they quiet
my feelings, my eyes
summon the blood-
shot like a cold day
I am all interruption
& crash, last night
was my mouth
fresh out of Jesus
embarrassed I opened
looked happy to be
here, in a glass
cup I try to hold
the stillness, my mouth
should alert angels
when a handkerchief
falls, when I drop,
say the moment is still
going on, lamp
coating the room
with something
different