Poets' Practice Pad

"Angels Who Left" 

          "The streets of heaven are far too crowded with angels"

Angels left, clicking
their bones,
their smiles dancing
in the memory,
angels ignored far too long
like the disease with no mercy,
like an oily turpentine spill,
instead of the cheer they
attempted to paint.
Angels tall and thin,
angels with yellowed skin
angels of patience,
looking for the moon, but
finding heaven in
music's colors,
angels sculpting
a strange art of sparks
that coalesce into
stars with long
hyacinth wings.
Angels gave me
magic ears, so I
can still hear them
singing.