I haven’t said a word to anyone
in weeks about the theory I could
fly because we were all dead.
this is me trying to wake up
to that fact.
I sat on the edge of my bed
staring at my face
in the oval, mahogany mirror:
warped, ashen,
melting
this is purgatory.

I was going to prove I
could fly. plus
I knew they were
watching me.

“the angels”