I keep angels in my basement.
I've got cots set up, have
For them their own breakfast nook.
I keep the door at the top of the stairs
Locked but I think for the most part
They are happy. I'm going to put in
A TV, maybe a game console.
I am not a rich man, but
If I am going to keep them
I have to be responsible, see
To their welfare, mental
As well as physical. Even now
I worry if they need soap
Or thread or extra blankets.
At times they seem to me almost kind,
But I am sure if they could get away
Easily they would go. Round and round
The basement half-windows the neighbors' kids
Press to the glass to watch them
Roost, cramped against the ceiling, or drift
Wall to wall, knock over a bookcase
Or fly lazily into the stacked bed linens.
The interest will always be there.
It is a lot of work for me.
You have no idea all the details there are.
At times I wish I had never
Captured my first one. But here I am
With a basement full now and a commitment
To be a good master, an enlightened
Collector. In time I think
I could get the more docile ones
Accustomed to the leash, start
With short walks around the block,
Move on to crashing Christmas displays downtown,
Offering to manage them for the school Easter play.
The possibilities are there
For a well grounded man, one
Who works hard, has a clear head
And can think cause and effect,
Investment and outcome, the study
Of why pipes drip and how, not why,
God loses angels.