an open letter to my
guardian angel

i've been thinking about
a painting from the back
of a prayer card i had when
i was little--
there's this angel 
standing behind a little
boy & a little girl
while they cross a bridge--
neither of them can see the
angel's great swan wings
so they laugh & walks
forward-- laugh dangerously--
they're so young-- i thought--
to be so precarious--
do you look at me like a stone 
to skip or do you listen
to my thoughts gnat-wing buzzing
at night
like a radio talking to itself?
i guess what i want to know 
is how close you walk behind me
& what your wings look like?
i have imagined you as a blue jay--
they've always been my favorite
bird & every time i say that someone
gives me some bird fact about them
being kind of feisty & not
as sweet as blue birds
but i like a blue jay & i'd
like it if you had wings like
a blue jays-- all cobalt &
black stripe & white line-- 
some night maybe you could sing to me?
i guess i'm writing to you
because sometimes when i walk
home on street lamp islands 
i turn around because i feel like
someone is watching me--
actually i feel like everything
is watching me-- the trees
crane their necks downwards--
the moths stop banging themselves
on lamp light long enough to
keep a vigil over this boy
with his hands deep in his pockets--
i guess i'm writing because 
i'd like to believe in you--
not because i think you'll catch
me when i fall off a bridge 
but because it feels nice to be
listened to-- like having an audience--
do you think of me as a poem?
--a nice poem written on the back
of paper napkin or
a bathroom stall-- somewhere it
could really shimmer--
is there someone who listens to you?
i would hope so-- if not this
is an invitation to come down 
& exchange roles for a day or
two-- i'd love your blue jay wings 
& you can be the boy writing 
poems & walking home far too
alone
i thought at least
i could invite you to
come with my tonight
as i try put the summer back
together-- here hold a handful
of leaves-- we can tape them back
to the torsos of the trees--
i have a roll of scotch 
in top drawer of my desk--
one at a time-- that's how
you teach them to hold on--
i want to hold on tighter
& summer is cutting her hair 
into the stream & i can't stand 
to see her hair float like
leaves-- it's silly really
to tape back on the leaves--
when i cut off my hair
no one tried to tape it back on
but you see it's the notion
of summer--
it just shouldn't be able to
end like that--
like a jar lid-- like the resurrection 
of all the street lamps at once--
oh guardian angel
wherever you are i hope you
take days off from me--
i hope there's afternoons where you
go off to garden-- prune the fig 
tree lodged in my heart--
i hope when you try to sleep
you don't worry about me--
i can keep myself from falling--
i've gotten good at it so far--
& if you do in fact want to switch places
just wake me up in the body of a blue
jay-- i'll sing to you--
& you can be the boy 
whose august body kisses
each leaf before it falls--
let's put summer back together--
oh blue jay i've been praying to
i'm not ready
i'm not ready 
take me with you next
time you sleep--
i want a break 
from being watched-- 
to be alone with only the light
from the street--
i've been in the process of
crossing this bridge from the back
of a prayer card
over & over & over
as if one of these
times i'm going to fall
& you will be there-- cobalt
wing & song