there are wings

that prey
around,

even as the eye

with gay ebullience
devours the Day

my.
there are wings

that sprinkle ashes
as they hover

up on high
over

the Breath

wending by.
there are wings
some say

they’re angels’…
perhaps.

all I know is away

they snatched
you.
there are wings

that prey
around,

as you vagabond

about
or gray.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

________________

Photo: Jay NEWMAN