An Angel Takes the Night Shift
He sits in the kitchen
In the evening,
Cutting slits
In the back
Of his blue work shirt
For his wings
To fit through,
Angel embroidered
In cursive
Over one pocket.
His wife has to
Help him
Get the shirt on.
Feathers fall
In the effort
Like sparks
From a sparkler.
After he leaves,
She picks one up:
Pinkish,
With a graceful curve
In the quill
That reminds her
Of the note
A violinist will
Play to make
Sure she is
Still in tune.