by Angela Bilger
grows at an angle
from the earth serpentine moss
adorns its low bent
branches as an aging woman
wears the jewelry
of her youth heaven
overtakes roofs
and hinges salt-air eaten heaven
hears the abandoned words
in my mouth when I asked
If you were to die tonight where
would you go? inside the empty silo
where I can sing with you where
our voices spiral
heaven contains my childhood backyard
where clothes are blown dry
animated on the line
by a scorching wind
Originally from Jacksonville, Florida, ANGELA BILGER is a classical musician living in the Philadelphia area with her husband and two children. Her work has been published in Mid-American Review, Raleigh Review, The Christian Century, Letters Journal, the minnesota review, Dappled Things, and Rust+Moth.
Photo: “Creepy Tree” by Neal Wellons
Psaltery & Lyre 