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
