under angels

angels wept
in silk woven blankets
spun from her tears
where fists buckled
  the last iron will,
butterflies fell
in winter's breath
under sheets of
bone white forever
we slow our pulse
  to hear 6 clock news.
slowly he stitches
the last birch tree 
in yards of strangers, 
she fell from high
  he spits from teeth.
meanwhile she cradles
darkness, behind iced
mirroring eyes:
lost of worth
  self and pride.
-comes a friend to
night's side
slowing the quiver
to open her lips
  unshading a smile.
and angels swept 
away tears peacefully
wrapping in warm 
blankets as soft hands
  recovered one.


06-04-97

for the beautiful angels
who give heart into hand
in shelters, on hotlines,
and those who have given 
shelter to a friend in 
need.

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©Denise Angela Celeste