Ameliorative Growing

by Ashley Mares


If I wanted God to pour me a second
serving of blessings I would take two

pieces of his body. So on Monday morning
I would wake up with more blood than can

fit in my veins. As a child I learned what
it’s like to hold broken glass in hand and

see blood. Mine is a different red than on
Sundays. I’ve been told porcelain dolls don’t

get lipstick on wine glasses. When crystal
sparkles under the light the saints smile but

they never said why. I can know things once
they can see straight through my glass. He

says I will drink with you again. Sometimes
words are pulled taut like hard knees locked

into place. Kneeled down against the floor
boards the wounds open and if you look at 

my bones, you can see they were assembled
by powerful hands.



Ashley Mares has a bachelor's in English Writing from Azusa Pacific University. She is in the process of completing her J.D in Monterey, CA, where she lives with her Husband. Her poetry is forthcoming in Turtle Island Quarterly, Absinthe Poetry Review, Hermeneutic Chaos Literary Journal, and Slim volume. She uses poetry to get through the stress of law school.