12/30/08_Poem2 by Betina Hershey Russo
My angel is watching
Sadly
As I crash
Against the charcoal ember.
My angel thought perhaps
I was finally lifting towards air,
Purifying towards child,
Green again, kind again,
Open.
I want to be open,
But all I see
Is the door slamming
And your shabby coat
Thrown over our delicate flowers.
What I should see:
The twinkle in your eyes,
Your calloused hands
Pointing out Jupiter.
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