The Phenomenology of Angels

1

How could I tell? He couldhave been just a man standing therewhile the desert wind lifted myhair and a snatch of musicdrifted in from the street.

How did I know? I could havebeen just a woman deceiving myselfthat he was more than just a man,that the blazing day was more thanjust pleasure, that it changed my life.

Why did I go on? The day turneddim. Think of that: dim.The sun fading in such radiance.It was his smile, I think.That, and the set of his hip.

2

For days I sat spinningon the spot where it had

happened, staring at the placeI had seen the angel incline

towards me, drenching my mindwith the colors of that moment,tracing the vision over and over.I wanted never to forget that beauty.

And for a time I remembered, for a timeI could almost touch those soft wings. But

now there's just a picture, a perfectportrait of an angel holding a pose,

and the spirit has seeped away, all thatangel grace, the luminosity, that fire.

Oh angel, angel! Even as you stoodthere I knew I would forget you!

3

Imagine the look of a manwho can never have been a husband:he had that special thinness,a resistance to being fed.He roused in me such freedom!

And when he moved, it waswith the fresh angularityof adolescence, even thoughhe was old, old, his skinsheer as glass, fragile.

He roused in me such fire!And oh, yes, I was willing.I told him, "I will." I meantnot, "I will do this thing."I meant, "I will it. I will it."

4

For a time, as though the angel had shadowedthe world with light, all things were radiant.

And then one day it dimmed. And no onepassed me in the market smiling that smile.