The angel above your home
doesn’t even know your name.
She loses the pig
under cracking floorboards,
dresses the deer in pearls,
polishes screws in your skull.
She tells you Don’t disturb the bird
inside your fake leg.
Blue feathers aren’t really
blue, they are brown or black.
Mothers forget to teach this sometimes,
forget loneliness is an acquired taste,
invisible light waiting to meet our eyes.
Natasha Kessler is a graduate student in the University of Nebraska's MFA program. She co-edits the online poetry journal Strange Machine and enjoys collaging when she is not poeming. Her poetry has appeared in Plainsongs, Plains Song Review, Alligator Juniper, Sub-lit, Sugar House Review, and Grey Sparrow.