Among Angels
“On the nightstand by each bed gleams a blue pitcher, a white cup, and candlestick.
It is clean there.
Six souls share the ewer and basin, soap and towel. Between their cots twelve slippers nap side by side like cats on the cloud floor.
It is cold there. The souls curl under their quilts, wings hugging their backs. How terrible for them when a foot tingles, a wing turns pins and needles.
“Growing pains,” my mother said when leg cramps staggered me from bed.
“Stand up.
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