Cherubs cheering up

There were angels everywhere

like babies

carrying, your name,

like crows when carried by malicious wind.

Not real ones, with wings.

Figures, icons, folding feathers and prayers

soft shelter or guardians on their-
A game.

One should not believe in what one

cannot see, namely fairies or demons.
Good & Evil.

We should let these Be Both

(superstitious) (malicious) (separate)

fantasies! Alas, we gorge 

over-sated with our sponge cake bellies,
porous and too accepting.

Just a passing tickle

black flashes splash our eyes

making one look up

just to see what it could be...

Painting by Hugo Simberg [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

(S)he

She has not looked at her nails
in over a month
except in rude irritation
for snags.
Out of the corner
of her eye-
She is spooked
by a haggard figure
staring at her
in the mirror
on the far wall.
She can taste her own breath
and wonders briefly-
what or when was the last thing
she ate?
She scavenges frantically
for anything
quick and small
in the kitchen-
but first does the dishes
and takes the trash-
and gets the phone-
She makes promises
and hurries about.
She feels a draft-and then-
wraps her robe tight.
She makes sure-
She makes good-
She hopes she makes it-
She is needed
to make sure-
She is not wrapped
too tight-
She forgot to check
if she was still breathing,
since swaddling
now causes SIDS-
and the mirror is
opaque and dusty.



Image of painting by Joaquín Sorolla c. 1895[Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.