For money, Krista Cox is a paralegal. For joy, she's an associate poetry editor at Stirring: A Literary Collection and Pittsburgh Poetry Review, and Program Director of Lit Literary Collective, a nonprofit serving her local literary community. Her poetry has appeared in Columbia Journal, Rappahannock Review, The Humanist, and elsewhere.

Previously in Glass: A Journal of Poetry: Fisher of Women

Krista Cox


You go into the wilderness for days (people have this same idea in all languages, so you convene on the cliffs to misunderstand each other) and when you return carrying new earth in your corners you expect a parade. You think sand will fall from you like rain, take root in frostbitten daffodils and grow an Indiana desert. You expect a steady red on your answering machine. A Facebook message. Seven texts. Some evidence that you are. But you're the flower and the sand and this April rain leaning toward renewal but clinging to some brighter winter. All that loves you is carried with you. You want this to be a comfort.

Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published monthly by Glass Poetry Press.
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