Heather T

angel smoke

 

again I was a child

worshiping barefoot breezes

given to the sunrise

of her born-again

 

she was new earth blush

 

her freedoms were a star-dance

of midnight constellations

and forgiveness was a song

that I could only hum

 

I cupped the laughter blind

 

catching angel smoke in nets

white wisps the still center

around which the universe

wrapped the fragile of my dreams

 

she smiled daylight redemption

 

and clover was a summered prayer

kneeling in her meadows

whispering soft my sins

to slow-song altar calls

 

and I was not a child

 

and she was not a child

in the temples of deep August

low smolder embers

ask me how my soul burns

 

in pyres of blue-eyed sky