Angels have bright yellow eyes, stripes and cutaneous
respiration
They hum like hang drums and slide over hunters’ boots
They snap-jaw tubifex worms; swim peacefully in creeks.
When violence seizes the Zeitgeist
They go underground to fortify their senses
Safe from skunks & badgers, they engage in ritual
A hang drum chorus
Interlaced paws
The Elder One, injured, regenerates her limb in a corner
Her angel sisters sing its growth.
