Edges Green glass washes ashore - these once jagged edges like my own, smoothed by years of sand and sea.   When Angels Come In Fevered Hours (a crown cinquain) A stone angel came to me with broken wings, smoothed my fevered brow I know not how, and said: If I were a white-winged dove I would hold you close, cooing in a softly feathered embrace. If I were a black-winged crow I would fly you to the heavenly spaces between the stars. If I were a grey-winged gull I would fold you near my heart and soar across the beach you love. If I had wings I would carry you from your pain to a time before your body failed you.

Return to the front page of this issue:   Amaze   Vol. 7, No. 1   Go to the Poets & Authors page for the poet's biographical sketch and email link. All poems are copyright © 2009 by their respective authors.