men, worship your women this way

Scenes in the life of a lesser angel:

I borrow wings from other angels, coast

the streets to find feathers loosely attached

to slender silver ties. With care, I close the catch

and fasten cardboard stiffened form so close

I cannot breathe or fly for the air

pushed out into a world in masquerade.

I am African. I am goddess with flare

sounding the trumpets. I call out God.

Meaning changes like sea water in storm.

I part the crowds until, beaten, my wings

fly, fall, litter the streets. I cradle the newborn

twins and realize that I am fallen,

a lesser angel, wingless and depressed.

I am seductress unpetaled, undressed.

Raina J. León.