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Oil Angel


I thought I saw a little angel dancing in the middle of the street

leaping fragile arabesques over the oil stains

and spinning circles around the iron sewer grates

then the train exhaled into the white gauzy wings

the angel floated fast up to heaven

so translucent I saw it burst with the white sun

and sink back to the black tarmac

settle as a plastic bag

its little dance deceased

if I hadn't seen it still it would've danced in that vacant street

to honor the world with no witness

and if it hadn’t danced

I might have


Six little birds


Six little birds describe the curve

Of a telephone wire

Lancing like a new, dark Milky Way

Through the shadow-puppet sky

Their round heads are points on a constellation

With the string of lights switched off

Normally at night they won't

Speak of morning but now they whisper a name

Of incomprehensible meaning

Giving for a moment a voice to every star


Amanda Allbert graduated from the University of California, San Diego with a degree in Linguistics and a love of words. She currently lives in Southern California where she works at a café and devotes her free time to writing poetry and fiction. These are her first published poems.

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