Here by Terra Oliveira

i want a miracle so plain,
so unassuming
& without drama—

a bush full of leaves

the sea as it is

the sun swirling through the sky
like the gasses its made of

the miracle must be happening:

steam rising from the wet wood
like ghosts leaving the body

murders of crows eating the bambi
on the roadside

two coyotes wandering up the hill
while i shadow the road behind them

so simple & ordinary
i can hardly recognize it
walking with me
on the ground


Terra Oliveira is a writer and visual artist from the San Francisco Bay Area, and the founding editor of Recenter Press. A finalist in the 2024 Sandy Crimmins National Prize for Poetry, her work has appeared or is forthcoming in The American Poetry Review, Bamboo Ridge Press, Protean Magazine, Paperbark Magazine, and more. Her poetry and illustration collection, An Old Blue Light, won the Where Are You Press Poetry Contest in 2016, and she has been awarded international residencies at The Schoolhouse at Mutianyu at the Great Wall of China, and elsewhere. During the week, you can find her managing two bookstores in the North Bay.

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