Apparently, my muse decided to go in a different direction for this poem, the fourth one written for January 2010′s Read Write Poem Mini-Challenge (to write six poems about starting over in six days). We went to Haiti for this one. And I’ll say no more.

P.S. To see the other mini-challenge poems that I am writing this month, click here.
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Death makes angels of us all
and gives us wings where we had
shoulders smooth as ravens’ claws.
- Jim Morrison

When the earth shook, the dead shuddered off their skins while
their hallowed breath escaped them in
invisible ribbons of night and day. Dust-covered angels
now wander incognito through the backbone and veins
of Port-au-Prince, trying to reconstruct their minds
from the rubble –

crumbled concrete souls in sundered pieces
like a broken open chest where the heart bursts out and
the ribcage lies behind, scattered
in ribbons of bone. Now,
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