Curtains moved from
forced air; staring at the window
she knew, she needed angel wings.
A television blasted
through empty walls: feet, cold,
skin breaking, stockings lost;
Someone told her he would lock doors
and take everything she needed to fly,
he was a madman, and there on a bed
lay a lifeless angel.
There was no way out – no walking,
no screaming – no strength to toss a
chair to break glass – so high from the
ground, and her wings never grew.
She prayed, let them sprout. . .