Wandering Prayer

Poetry
Written By Hannah Smith
 

Throngs of angels 
have roamed this prairie 


in search of snow runoff. I am
blessing every blackbird 


who rests along telephone wire. Oh lord,
cut me a break when I am hard-pressed, 


my throat the open grave
that someone new might fall into. 


Sacred are the lost, the lovers 
and dreamers, this woman beside me—


the name of her god upon 
my lips. Weigh my heart


by its gravitational force, melt me down
into my elemental mess—a slurry 


of all the times I hid inside the secret 
thunderbolt. Give me a lamp and oil 


to see myself. Grant me a small sting 
of faith, honey in the comb. 

Hannah Smith

Hannah Smith is a writer from Dallas, Texas. She received an MFA in poetry at the Ohio State University, where she served as the Managing Editor of The Journal. Her poems have been published or are forthcoming in Gulf Coast, Ninth Letter, Image, and elsewhere. Her collaborative chapbook, Metal House of Cards, is forthcoming from Finishing Line Press. You can find her online at hannahsmith.net

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