The morning the angel fell in love with her,
he attached his blazing invisible wings to her
shoulder blades with transparent duct tape.
Her first child would often reach behind her ears
and stroke the shivering feathers in the air
or he would tilt back his head to see the cirrus
canvases tacked above the sunset, grinning
as though he spotted a familiar face peering
’round the corner of a rose-tinted cloud.
At those times, she would glance over her
shoulder or gaze up into the heavens swathed
in playclothes of pink chiffon and red tulle,
and she would pray that he would never forget
whatever it was she could never see.
