Each Day

Naked Angel, Old Girlfriend

The heirloom glass angel

from storage is dusty,

a mouse-dropping for a mustache,

still boldly naked but greasy in her crevices.

We joke that cleaning by hand would be rude.

She's ridiculous, you say. Take her. A gift.

Idly you glance down at your sweater

with my gaze following

and we both notice your nipples firming up,

prominent now, a sudden blossoming

where I had not been aware.

Now looking straight into your eyes I say

Thanks, I'll take the angel. As trade

I'll bring a load of firewood,

split and stacked. To keep you warm.

Which translated means

I am trying not to think about

how pretty you would be

if posed like the angel.

You, looking straight into my eyes, say

Yes, to keep me

and my husband warm,

which means

I know exactly

what you are not thinking

and it is all your fault,

you beast.

See you later, I say, and we hug because

we are friends. Old friends. That's all.

First published in MOON magazine