The Gift
Angels do not appear dressed as we imagine. Why
would they? They are naked beneath their poor choices:
unmatched and worn. A hat and no shoes. Shoes
and no shirt. Unpressed. Unvarnished.
Nor do they appear porcelained and
glowing as the skins of fish trapped in the depths do.
An angel is nothing if not ferocious. How else
to look upon the face of the unfathomable and live?
And they live all around us, drawn …