NaPoWriMo 2013 # 20...

we turn to play, we say yes in movies

my one nimble hand

captured jacks

with one high bounce

a scoop then swipe

the story hints

were numbered

aside chalked

little boxes

one atop the next

a square dimension

I mention

to life as a circle

of possible

an arc of my character

and covenant

one act leading

into another

on a sidewalk stage

one warm

Spring day

there are angels

at the bedsides

of all the poets

they know

we move to pictures

we are very much

conduits and old souls

we knife time

to expression

we speak as rivers

cutting valleys

covered with trees

we reveal ourselves

to be families

friends and

pictures of who

in rings

we know names

before screaming

from water to air

declaring ourselves

human again

for seventy

to eighty

odd years

faceless

we were angels

too, once here

owls are said

to protect the night

outside our windows

where mystery

is still the law

of unnamed dark

the nocturnal scurry

rodent guarded

tragic elements

and minions of doubt

are capable of mayhem

we dream in color

to ward them off

and though

they are not as illustrious

as Elphaba's flying monkeys

the rat bastard

naysayers

are a stealthy lot

and as such

cause need

for entire forests

of bedside angels

angles the owls take

when they swoop

clutch back bent

folding open wings

to slow time

enough to capture

just enough light

from the dark offstage

to guide us through

to the bow and

curtain closing music 

at every Dawn

EJR ©