Angelina's Wings
Angelina lay cold and still,
Her back bare,
Her bones exposed.
Even angels succumb to disease.
A few feathers here,
A few more there.
At first she didn't worry,
All angels shed their feathers
Once in a while.
When the white flesh began to show
Where once blue feathers ruffled,
She knew it was over.
An angel without wings!
A sorry state, indeed.
Tears shed in the dark hollow,
Followed by self-pity and recriminations--
Angelina the featherless fiend.
She wasn't an angel, but a demon!
God has no pity for sulking saviors.
Cast out of the Heavens, clipped raw
And aching, her trembling loss of confidence
Enfolds her in humanity.
Angelina lay cold and still,
Her back bare,
Her bones exposed.
Now mortal, she still retained
Her spread of angel bones,
Those diseased appendages that
Lost her God's favor.
Only an artist could help her now,
And she lay before him
While he formed the mold,
While he fashioned the multi-colored
Feathers of Angelina's wax wings.
Dena L. Moore
November 27, 2001
Angelina's Wings will appear in my chapbook, Neptunian Illusions: Reflections of Spirituality, Creativity, and the Self. Not yet available!
The front page poem changes every 2-3 weeks.
All work on this website are original poems by Dena L. Moore and are copyrighted. If you would like to post any of my work on your site or in print, please contact me or my publisher for permission. The poetry on this site is only a very small sampling of my work.
This page was last updated on July 6, 2003
Copyright February 2001
Dena's Poetry: Poetry of Love, Loss, and the Occult is Written, Designed, and Maintained by
Dena L. Moore
