Angel is the only word in the language which
cannot be worn out.
Hello. Have you been touched by an angel yet?
If not, you may be the last living creature
on the planet not to be. I can’t so much
as peek outside my door these days without
some other angel groupie gushing about
his or her miracle du jour. What in
the name of Whomever happened to dumb
blind luck? Maybe it’s time for the thrones, powers,
dominions, and such to start frugging once more
on the head of a darning needle, blessedly one
in some galaxy without a return policy.
Or take a couple of eons off, and drop
in on Pops, still hustling the night shift out at the Old
Immortals’ Home. Yeah, and drag along young Whozits.
is thinking of you without
being aware of it.
Let's try another example.
the planets and stars,
the moon most probably
are out there trining, sextiling,
etc., so that you can enjoy a meal with friends,
but don't overeat or spend too much.
You are sensitive to your surroundings now
and may have useful insights.
Why not make a to-do list of household chores?
Might you feel better
if you let someone get close?
Mark Mansfield is the author of one, full-length collection of poetry, Strangers Like You (2009, revised 2016 Van der Decken). His poems have appeared in The Adirondack Review, Bayou, Blue Mesa Review, Deep South Magazine, The Evansville Review, Fourteen Hills, Gargoyle, The Ledge, Limestone, Magma, Potomac Review, Salt Hill, San Pedro River Review, Scrivener, Unsplendid, and elsewhere. He was a 2015 Pushcart Prize nominee. Currently, he lives in upstate New York.