We orbit the floodlights of Acme above abandoned shopping carts. Granted, we all share a universe. And she, the human below and ignorant to us, flashes a selfie. Sees later in the photo an angel above her head and so thus shares it viral.
Quite a photo I might add. Some disbelieving followers then soon debate whether it is indeed an angel or just a serendipitous, up close blurred moth in the foreground, which it actually is. I should know. It's me.
Up close, I've got a face. Maybe to strangers, rather hideous. But, by some grace, perhaps there is a place where wolf can lay with lamb while a beautiful bug like me not need to be satisfactorily blurred and misconstrued to be heavenly.
Published by Other People's Flowers,2019
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem