Dorothy Doyle Mienko
GOD'S GLASSBLOWER
Stuck inside Chihuly glass
in pink morning light,
the angels are pulling
down their panties.
Right after sleep, right
after God sticks his tongue
into Chihuly's brain
the angels pull off
their corsets in mints
of sea-formed loops.
Layer upon layer,
angels in glass baskets
shiver into rows.
Knots of angels in bows
of orange: purple storms
of angels on chandeliers.
It is blue gold-rimmed
God loves most: the glass
star in the angel's mouth.
Chihuly and God
know glass as deeper-
than even a wing.
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