is like living with lightning roaming round the house.
Waking up to the hiss and crackle
of flame-edged feathers
coming up through the floor like shark-fins.
It’s like knowing every door is guarded
by a red-hot sword. It’s like
warnings from the voices on the radio
that make you shiver for no reason. It’s uncanny.

Angels are not made out of spun sugar or sunbeams.
Angels are the thickest slice of reality
that human perception can bear—infinitesimally thin
slivers of divine will. They rock the boat
we think of as the universe
like whales breaching underfoot. Angels introduce themselves
with Fear not and take their leave with God’s will be done
whether you like it or not.

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