The Trouble with Angels
Sometimes I forget they’re there behind the curtains
for the street to see just the three
I once had many more.
I gave one each
to my five children
when they moved away.
Sal kept his on the toilet
Maria kept hers on the TV
back when TVs were thick.
I never saw one in Joe’s apartment and we never discussed it.
Patty kept hers with her nativity
above the manger at Christmas.
Angela kept hers in a kitchen window surrounded by her African violets.
Angela—maybe it started then. All my cute little angels.
Nobody stays an angel, not really. Frank died 23 years ago
but behind the curtains, I’m hanging on. Ma, we don’t want your angels,
they all said, but I got tired
of dusting their wings.