by Isaac Terry

Take out my glass, wet it first

fill it slight, hear it slosh

Wet your finger, dip them in

Gently oh so, it’s still glass.

Rotate, rub, place the pressure

Hear it sing, F, A, G

A bit sharp, but who cares.

Steady your rhythm, hold tight

just right, watch it clatter

as the legs shiver, as the stem shutters

as the counter rebukes

the vibrating touch.

Too far and too late, the crack

loud and the shatter quickly after.

Wet and glass now litter the floor.

Bend down, fetch another

     Isaac Terry is currently studying and practicing Journalism at Oklahoma State University, with minors in creative writing and Spanish. When he’s not suffocating under work he enjoys writing even more, acting, making music and all things creative. He works to infuse his experiences as a gay man in the south, his Native American roots and that subtle bubbling rage inside of all of us into much of his poetry and prose.