Eric Christopher Uphoff


From wine to water, a glass
can hold many things.
One day it will break,
shards returning to sand.

Roots creep around blades,
searching for water. Found,
tingles ripple up rows of spines.
A crown of flowers bloom.

In a moonless sky, bats descend.
Sweet nectar a prize if
landing is safe, before dawn
burns along the dunes.

Scalding air fills the lungs
of the glass blower who takes
a deep breath. An exhale
gives shape to glowing mass.

Flowers in that vase were cut
this morning, but that doesn’t stop
bees from collecting pollen,
dusted on their little hairs.

Eric Christopher Uphoff is a wanderer who has called Texas, Japan, and Taiwan home. Due to a few twists of fate, he currently finds himself an early childhood educator at a bilingual school in Taipei. He holds an MFA in writing from Lindenwood University and a BA in music from the University of North Texas. His poetry can also be found in Kosmos and Book of Matches.