at orange Dawning, when the World is all of a Hush

the Angels come & the Angels sit by my Bed trying so

hard to be Quiet. but even in my most secret Dreams i

hear their footsteps & they sound like the Stars

Singing & i am Comforted. one Day they will bury

me in the Garden & i am Comforted. they will drown

me in the bath & when they softly push me

down with their big big Wings i will

be as peaceful as the pie-slice of Nothing between a tiger’s

whisker & the Moon.

the Angels tell me that i will rot but not to

be Afraid because — !

because i am the Universe’s very own baby

& the Spring is always coming:

under the Ground the Grass

has already begun to stir. & in the Dark

time when the Day & i are sleeping the Angels come

& whisper to us so we don’t get

too Lonely. in our untongued Silence they touch our hair

& tell that Dying is like a warm pool — 

the Girl you met in a hotel when you were Seven

holding onto your hand & leading you on bare

feet down a long long Hallway with a

Light at the End & you are carried Upstairs but in the next

Room the grown-ups are still laughing & you can hear the clink of

glasses. it’s like this, say the Angels: when you do fall

you fall Gently.