The Rosary Poems: Glorious Alison Shaffer


The doors were shut, but Jesus came
and stood among them. JOHN 20:26

What rises? Rivers climb, stumble
rain-drunk along shallow banks,
denying their end with salty
mouths—longing, riverbed stones
weigh down center of my palms,
wet, warm and hard, blood and nails,
the flesh of the river shrinking
into air, leaving only granite bones—
heat and water rise and, God,
so much that rises is lost to me.


February 2005 2River