Like crying, the movement is wing-like.
I am washing my face in the shower; I am trying
To cry like an angel; up and out I strike;
Like crying.
An angel cannot move as its wings are drying.
The up and out. The out and up of its psyche
Is grounded. Its wings are not for eyeing.
The face of the head is washed on the pike,
The angels above it are flying;
Washing your face in the shower is so angel-like,
Like crying.
Tom Will’s work has appeared in Hobart Pulp, Rejection Letters, Soft Union, and Spectra Poets. He is the author of the poetry collections RYHMES, American Cats Are In a Big Country, and Pale Townie.