Mobirise Web Page Maker

Winter, 2003

Didi Menendez


When Angels Die

When angels die
their feet never touch the ground.

Summersaults round and around
inside your belly.

A second seems like eternity.

You are naive. You think your angel is impetus -
a hell raiser,
a go-getter,
an Olympic champion -
not realizing,
death comes in twirls.

The next day -
at your four month sonogram,
you are told by a shocked nurse,
your angel is dead.

Yet your belly is still round -
still nourishing a dead embryo.

You are told to wait -
to let nature take it's course.

A week goes by.
Your belly is now flat.

Yet your angel has yet to touch ground.

Eight hours later
your child plops into porcelain.

A nurse scoops it up
and places it in a white blanket.

You study your child
as if he were just sleeping,
counting toes and fingers,
realizing his eyes are like yours.

You name him Andrew.