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.