An Angel Tries Petty Theft
After the sky swallowed it’s tongue,
monarchs came out of hiding.
Black cats in kaftan dresses
charleston across a wet field
& the angel busies herself
bunny-looping her laces.
Getting to bravery isn’t such hard work.
The angel cups her hand ‘round the moon,
ripe clementine, whispers
Mine.
Pine needles fan across the velvet blue valley
like pen outlines.
The angel is proud to have noticed.
Nightjars nest, felt cut-outs
glued to paper-mâché birch limbs
& a hut, chicken-legged, bends
to make getting in easier.
The angel nibbles a blade of grass,
imagines sharp teeth sinking into her shoulder.
Finally, a straight shot to heaven,
an elevator made of sticks
& magic.
Finally, someone to do the heavy lifting
for her.
Starlight spills through the window
& the angel readies her needle.
Silver ribbon dreamy, something almost witchy.
But enough of that, already.
Sometimes, the world really does seems to stop
at the end of the canvas.
Tree moans and cricket clicks,
a shrieking midnight sonata.
The angel listens until she doesn’t.
She hushes fireflies,
waits for the mist to settle, slips into something
more comfortable. Now, now.
Hands emerge from the ground,
daturas, urgent trumpets,
& the angel still regrets nothing.
