an angel in three acts
she wonders if these glued on feathers
will help her fly, so she tries,
leaps, bounds, for a moment
wings brush sky.
she wonders if crashing will break her;
brittle bones and handmade walls,
patchwork pains and blue lips.
she looks up,
yearning for the clouds to offer comfort,
but the tiny droplets are crying too.
she collapses in a heap of strangled
quills and hunched whispers,
crying for no one to hear.