caught

i am the
angel
that prepares people
to meet god

few of you get it right—
there is a plan, but it’s not
exactly fate.
here in the
birth and ending of people department,
we very rarely know more than a
few years in advance.

i
execute
the plan.
i’ve walked among people
shyly.

as she bounded with her arms across
the monkey bars and swung around with her knees
that let her shirt fall down around her chin
revealing the innocence and sameness of a child’s torso
i planted the small knot of tumor like a seed
in her brain that would slowly begin to
chew away at her
and bring her back

sometimes in this line of work
i get distracted

sometimes as i glide through the air
i cause the scattering of birds or
your kite string to break—

sometimes in the act itself i am caught
in your pictures—
nothing in them but a
faint and hazy orb of light.