God in the Dew, God in the Adieu Floating like backwards snowflakes going to their mother cloud, that salt shaker in the sky: what happens if you lose your saltiness? Are the holes in God’s hands black holes sucking all the dead stars and planets into a cataclysmic clap? Does God always clap on beat? The angel’s skirt hem gets ruffled by the entropy from one dimension melting into another— like an Einstein Rosen Bridge melting into itself. The angel choir hums its hymn, it reverberates chilling thrills, and with dissonance it echoes and unfolds in spacious arpeggios. The angels on high waiting for God in the dew, oh, God adieu. The Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end, God in the dew, oh, God adieu. The grass grows in the meadow, the trees reach toward the clouds, the lilies fashion out white petals, all when time goes forward.
Jennifer Silvey lives in the St. Louis area with her husband, their two cats, and their dog. She studied digital film for her bachelor’s and creative writing for her master’s. Both degrees were earned at Missouri State University in Springfield, MO. Her book Midnight Galleries is slated to be published through LCk Publishing.
Amethyst Review 