by a woman who believes in angels.
Her card says when you want to rest your wings.
I call them blades.
Innocent and soft, the floating floof.
A hundred angels scold.
Pardon me for always running out to brawl with the good.
Let me stop making a table, strife a hungry ghost.
The woman tenderizes my body.
Like I’m a calf.
Of the finest magnitude.
Her hands prove my heart is the first animal.
I cry.
Good one. Love the floating floof!
Humming bird.