Angel, you live in the holy light
and we live in your shadows.

Please dance so your movement
lets a little light through

and I can see when the light glints
off my daughter’s sparkly halo.

I scrub the kitchen floor
and this corner is too dark for me to tell

if I got it Clean as a whistle
so I may prove I have done nothing immoral.

Angel, thank you for folding your wings
and getting down on your hands and knees

to help me buff this linoleum beautiful
as in Cleanliness is next to godliness.

But Angel, you spread that darkness
over my shiny linoleum floor—

the shadowy shape my dog casts
carrying a dead squirrel to her dish.

copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney

Awfulness Of Waiting

I helped Paul rearrange eggs in a carton.
This is important when your friend is intubated.
The lack of effectual power caused this shift.
Endlessly rearranging the mundane does not create immunity.
But it occupies the mind between Zoom visits.
The pain of waiting for good news makes reading impossible.
Paul searches for balance and finds it for an hour or two.
The house is cleaner than it has ever been.
Even the spots that require tip-toes and extension wands.
There is no herculean effort to view under the plastic hood.
Induced coma and tubes equal a wing and a prayer.
Paul takes his time in every task.
He feels detached like an unmatched sock.
He streams war movies aiming to carpet bomb his malaise.

copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney