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thinks he’s the archangel Gabriel.
Nighttime is when such things
can happen. We permit twilight
to linger inside when he talks.
That’s not what I heard, I say.
It’s what I said I said, he says.
You need to enunciate, I say.
I always annunciate, he says,
as headlights then pass outside,
causing squares of light to fall
into the room, like bright pages
ripped from some holy testament
or like blessed wings dissolving.

Photo by Ben Lockwood on Unsplash

Ronnie Sirmans

Ronnie Sirmans is an Atlanta print newspaper digital editor whose poetry has appeared in Sojourners, Fathom, Heart of Flesh, America, The American Journal of Poetry, Tar River Poetry, and elsewhere.