angels in my peripheral
I kept believing in my peripheral
but there was nothing there
rural mailbox not a hitchhiker
yellow utility pole not a giraffe
three angels work in the east room
validating dice & drawing straws
you said it was a good place
to unlock & unload
& so away I went to converse
with the sounds inside the woods
once inside I doubted my return
two or three angels in my peripheral
september two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
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