WHISTLING SHADE |
by Naomi Ruth Lowinsky
The Angel of Now is named Sciatica She’s got you under her irritated sway The Angel of Hurry has mislaid your glasses She’s a black hole full of lost keys lost worlds last night’s forgotten dream The Angel whose name is Presence can’t find your voice gets stuck in your blind alleys Your hip complains of cranky weather Your shoulders ache to be wings The Angel of The Times breaks into your glass house shatters your favorite bubble smears fear all over the news This Angel is a Banshee with a Hammer This Angel is the Radiant Eye Look The persimmon tree hangs heavy with fruit Rain glistens on leaves turning red turning gold Breathe deep from your belly Smell the wet earth So speaks the Angel from Before You Were Born Remember me? I’m the one who promised you all this