For Aliena's challenge
A different view of this picture came to mind after thinking about brothers and sisters and grade school plays. There's a bit of me in that angel.
The Trouble With Angels
And they carried me--
my brothers did
after the play.
There I was sitting atop that tree
singing of Christ's birth
when Chester the shepherd boy
tossed his staff across the stage,
its crook catching around the base
rattling the tinsel, shaking the bows
until at last I started to fall.
And with angels' wings I dropped.
Landing on the floor, leaving all grace
to the Christ child, I crumbled, crashed,
and cried. Like a baby without a manger,
I lay there with pine needles, hay, and
a torn halo. Baby Jesus stared with doll's
eyes while Mary and Joseph giggled.
"Oh Lord," my momma gasped out in
the darkened auditorium.
"Dear God in Heaven," Sister Magdalena
prayed aloud from the the stage door
as she fainted into Father O'Hara's arms.
Momma says that Chester Sizemore is
a menacing boy. Sister Magdalena has left
the school to meditate in the Ozarks. Father
O'Hara quit the priesthood. And, I,
well just look at me. I am a fallen angel
being carried by my two demon brothers.
I hate dresses anyway.
Kathy Lockhart
1/25/07
Poetry by Kathy Lockhart
Read 654 times
Written on 2007-01-25 at 18:10
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