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confetti pages by Joshua Gage

• Guardian Angel - by Joshua Gage           First, she would have to be unscrubbed,          and not descending, but simply strutting          up to me at the hottest hour of the morning,          her wings oily with grime and smelling          of cigarette smoke. There would be no glow,          no radiant halo of light ushering forth, but maybe          a pirouette of freckles exposing the… {more}
  
  
• Tzevaot - by Joshua Gage             Everything grows tight and cold again            and winds moan throaty cello tones through clouds.            I have grown disconsolate this hour,            its seven sorrows scorched across my skin.            There’s no better time to be an angel            dispatched in wing-raged armor to obscure the sun.            They descend in a crescendo of novenas            that thunder up my… {more}
  
  

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