there is a diverse cluster of angels
arranged in an vague approximation
of a semi-circle on the third shelf
of a bookcase in my living room.
the tallest among the collection,
a beautiful Isabel Blume piece
soars among her sisters, holding
high a pink ribbon of survival.
a gift from my daughter, the angel
commands and deserves center stage.
her siblings provide clues to
places visited by my friends and me.
a brightly colored fabric angel hails
from guatemala. she is plump and
comforting and is the only seraphim
I know who sports black pigtails.
two cherubim, one tiny and one merely
small, serenely smile, clutching plaster
lambs to their white plaster chests.
another guatemalan angel, created from
old, rolled sheet music soundlessly
sings praises to heaven above.
there are several others gathered there,
some sitting on books. i imagine they
read late into the night so from time
to time i rearrange them for variety.
one inexplicably holds a marble. i have
no idea where the marble came from, but
it seems appropriate in the angel’s hands.
Praying for Eyebrowz 