The Guests

By Terresa Wellborn

I drove, a solitary sail into the mouth of the night,
to the Wasatch edge where I saw her, a deer,
head bent to a pool of green,
and you, a flung star.
How we wanted her, like a hooked dream,
awash in our own brine. We poured,
paired cups of disbelief and tremulous now,
gathered guests at a table only she knew how to give.
We took her in, a blur of tan and heaving life,
her heart written out in hoof and tail twitch,
and us, captured on the deck of that dark night,
fish even, swallowed.


About Terresa Wellborn

Terresa Wellborn has been published in BYU Studies, Dialogue, and several anthologies including Fire in the Pasture, Monsters and Mormons, and Dove Song: Heavenly Mother in Mormon Poetry. She has a BA degree in English Literature and a MLIS degree in Library and Information Science. Her joys include her four children, books, and chocolate babka. She reads faster than she hikes, runs faster than she writes, and has often been mistaken for Miss Frizzle. When not on a mountaintop, she prefers to dwell in possibility.

Leave a Comment