1. The Angel Appears on Carrie's Wall

His voice like the commentary on
a baseball game, droning, comforting, as
if heard from another room. Behind him,
a line of hills, clouds in a blue
sky, a river curving like a ribbon. Carrie
thinks there might be houses, out of
sight, where the angel's country fades
into the wallpaper. The angel stands in
long grass, but Carrie can't see his
feet, as if he is standing just
outside a window. He doesn't look at her,
and she is thankful for that.

2. Sunday at Home

Carrie looks out the window. She can't
call Steven, she called him yesterday,
hearing him speak in his new house, his
house without her. Too soon to call
again. She can't see Amanda who is buying
shoes for her children. How can they need
so many shoes? Carrie looks out the window
at the birds pecking at the lawn, working
as if they had a map that promised
treasure. Three birds. She names
them: Steven, Amanda, Carrie--birdfriends
who have grown up together, know each
other's secrets. Steven bird, gallant,
hopping backwards to let the others peck
first. Amanda bird the most beautiful,
her wings a sheen of black and blue. Carrie
bird--but they all fly away, rising
together at some signal she can't know.

3. Carrie Remembers the Dolls

She only liked to visit when it was
Auntie Anne's house. No children, but
she had dolls anyway. They had their own
room, their small chairs and tables, a set
of china. Carrie sat on doll chairs for
tea. She had a secret name there, a doll
name. She liked Renata best,
Renata, with her checked pinafore,
her puffed sleeves: she had a sweet
nature, though she didn't smile. Renata
was her doll sister, her doll self, long
brown hair in braids like her own. Her doll
name was Diane. Diane, sister of Renata.

4. Carrie Sees, or Maybe Dreams the Angel Again

It stood beside her bed, she opened her
eyes and saw its yellow hair in the light
from the outside. She thinks it is Steven,
lovely blonde Steven, his soft hair and hands,
who hasn't given back his key, who has come
at last. Carrie stretches out her hand
and the touch of his hand is cold enough to
burn, and when she looks into his face
it is the face of the angel. In the kitchen
she stands under the overhead light as if
it is a shower that will warm her. She
screamed and it went away. Or did she dream?
She puts her hand to her throat, as if to
feel whether she'd made any noise.

5. Father Bonski Advises Carrie

Angels are all around us, the priest
says, smiling. They stand in the rectory
garden, bushes dripping with roses.
The collar of the priest's blue cotton
shirt is open, his smile wide. Call me
Father B, he says. We can all be
angels. He brings his hands together,
as if to pray. We can all be God's angels
on earth. Carrie takes a rose in her hand, dark
red, almost black. Seraphim? she asks.
Father B pursed his lips. I don't take the Bible
literally. No, I don't think I do. Together
they looked out over the backyards, the chimneys,
the roofs. I don't think I do, he said.

6. Carrie Leaves Work Early

Come over, Amanda says, come to dinner
with the kids. Carrie gets her rain coat. On the elevator
two teenagers hold hands, the hands inside
the boy's pocket. Carrie could go to Cuba,
go to Steven's office and cry for an
hour. She could wallpaper over the angel or change
her name to Diane. The sky outside is silvery
blue. Carrie feels herself, a mud-brown
spot, leaving grains of herself on the sidewalk like a
trail. If only she had wings, if only she were
an amoeba, or a gas creature in the fires
of Jupiter. She walks down the street, dragging
her feet, pulling herself through the air.

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Mary Grimm has mostly published fiction, but she’s had poems in Lucid Stone and Pleiades. She teaches creative writing at Case Western Reserve University and is working on a novel about ghost hunters.
Website: http://www.novelontoast.blogspot.com
 

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