Glossolalia Poem By Angela Sorby

Glossolalia Poem By Angela Sorby

Rae Anne Redfield
is dying for me

to convert to Pentecostal

so one summer day
she prays in tongues,

her voice a plant
forcing out blooms:

cinnamon spikes,
bees in the nightshade,

a foxglove fugue.
My parents’ patio

turns hot as lungs,
unsticks from the grid

of level lawns,
and veers into a garden

overrun with wilderness.
I’m fourteen and close

enough to touch Rae Anne’s,
braids, her bangs,

her birch white hair part.
How could I not feel,

Christ’s knuckles rap
hard on my heart?

Angela Sorby
from Distance Learning

Glossolalia Poem By Angela Sorby

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