Softly she slips from crinolines,
petticoats and pantyhose,
slips crooked wings from perfect bone,
slips again into membrane, fine
nightdress of solidified tears,
slips once more into bed sheets, tangles,
untangles, and finally falls asleep.

You see, at night she has no need for wings,
no forces to fly against, only dreams
where everything is just as it is
and never slips away.

(from Nighttime on the Other Side of Everything, New Rivers Press 2019)