Feathers in the Fog
The old bat kept ordering
insecticide off the television.
She said, "Angels keep
nesting in my hair."
I said, "I don't know
if it works on angels."
(What I should have said
was that you should
leave the house
when using an insecticide fogger
--and, if for some reason you stay,
don't smoke.)
When they found her
she was on her back,
singed bunny slippers in the air,
surrounded by the carcasses
of a thousand dead angels.
2 comments:
you're back! i've missed your posts! for a while there, i thought we were never gonna see you again.
as always, the scene you depicted with your words is so vivid that when i read it, i feel like as though i was right there. masterful!
i wonder why she would want to kill of her angels though. it must have been a tough life. and tougher still to have it end with those that she most hated.
Thank you so much for welcoming me back. I have been traveling lately and have not been able to get online as much as I would like. The point you make at the end of your comment is both astute and well taken. I did not see it from that perspective. :)
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