Angels in Flight
He Dreams of Angels Flying~ Read the poem. Listen to the poem on You Tube at Planet Alaska Poetry. Enjoy~
He dreams of angels flying
off the O’Connell Bridge, a short walk
from the Indian Health Service hospital.
In the four a.m. sunlight, a girl floats heavy
in midair, raven hair falling, but he catches her,
ripping his shoulder from its socket; so, the City
gave him a medal that gathers dust in a box.
Again, years later, below that same bridge,
a dark silhouette: a black angel with iced
breath hangs above him on suspension cables
before leaping into 35 degree water.
In the ocean, he clutches the angel’s head,
fighting against limp wings and swims through
the wintry darkness, the smell of alcohol mixing
with froth and salt spray. No medal this time—
he volunteers to pluck celestial souls escaping
from the "third floor" only to return them
to their captive heaven. At night he pops Advil,
rubs his shoulder, while I lie beside him listening
to his breathy moans and I know that in his dreams,
he will always catch fallen angels in hopeless
attempts at flight.