mercy dream

but tonight you're a literal angel,
complete with avian wings  
and amber halo,  
i walk up the stairs,  
turn left, turn left again,  
and you're sitting on the bed,  
plucking feathers off your wings,  
one-by-one, so i  
know what's wrong,  
you're feeling sunk, undeserving,  
  
desolate,  
   
don't even notice me  
till i sit in the bed  
and fiddle with the pieces,  
   
i ask,  
"why are you removing your feathers?"  
   
you pause,  
as if my every word were  
omens from god,  
and eventually respond,  
"maybe i'm not loveable, maybe i  
was never meant to fly  
above the clouds, or bathe in sun"  
   
no surprise, but i
let your words  
sink into my recesses,  
 
my gaze meets yours, i smile,  
grabbing a handful of feathers  
which i toss into the air,  
   
"look!
it's snowing, baby,"  
   
and hope returns, nestling  
into the corners of your mouth  
 
 
like magic.