contact tracing

in the days after i saw the angel
the telephone rang over & over.
all the ghosts & all the police men
& all the doctors & all the boyfriends 
were calling to hear about my skin.
they asked, "have you died?" they asked,
"have you seen a bleeding moon?"
i answered honestly,
"yes, yes, yes." then they would
hang up as if it frustrated or terrified.
the sighting itself was everything
i could have ever wanted. the angel 
held a spoon of opal & said,
"do not stop eating." in the morning
i could not breathe. i had swallowed
too much. i had seen a land 
of stained glass children. 
i was told i became part of a map.
it was a doctor who called to say,
"you helped us follow him." he meant
the angel. i wondered if 
they could predict who was going
to be visited next or if 
our devices are always a tool of "after."
i have read online that 
if you catch an angel sighting
early enough, you might not 
hover above the ground forever.
it is a nice thought. i miss the soil
on some days but others
i am nothing but honored 
to have been visited. the telephone said
i could take stones & grind them up
& eat them. that it could maybe
weigh me down enough 
so that i inhale like an average animal.
instead, i live my life like a spearmint bush.
as wildly as i can. grow little white flowers.
tell everyone i meet about
the angel. what it was like
to die bursting with light.