No god is secure from the lofty flight of mortal thought . - S or Juana Ines de la Cruz Un-attach your leaden wings. Replace them with survivor scalp of post-chemo down. Speak to the angels in your sleep. Assure your daughter you will always catch her. What we’ve grown from such compost is splendor. What we chant still are the ABCs. Washing our hands up to the elbows. Poetry Postcard Festival 2021