It is here
on this point and no other—
where insanity gives way to infinity—
that the angel has
danced.
It is here
where infirmity gives way to impunity
that a woman who has never seen or heard angels
can’t stop writing about them,
spirit squeezing into pen
and trying to break out the point
to leave at least a trace
of ectoplasmic blood on the
page.
It is here,
just here,
that she loses the point
each
time.