long
before they became
angels
were not so obvious;
they
appeared to only the chosen:
Joseph
Smith on the mountain,
Saul on
the road, Mary at home.
And
there was the old man
in New
Jersey who saw one
in the
porch window across the street.
Angels,
what is it with them?
Once it
was only a feather
dropped
through Rilke’s Elegies. Now
they
have fan clubs, intermediaries,
blogs,
profiteers. They’ve had their divinity
brushed
from their wings.
©2013
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