It’s hard to believe they’re not angel wings,
what’s left of these red-eyed creatures.
They emerge where soil’s not been turned
for new buildings, Elms not yet uprooted
by derechos. The masses don’t come back to these places
of disruption—besides the few who’ve stayed to remind us
we aren’t the only ones who love
these trees, this earth.
Further north their strange choir
drowns the sounds of crows.
Could it be angels no longer fall from heaven,
but climb up from below, as transluscent beings?
—
Dina Elenbogen is author of the poetry collections, Shore and Apples of the Earth, as well as the memoir, Drawn from Water. She’s received fellowships from the Illinois Arts Council and the Ragdale Foundation. Her work has appeared in anthologies and magazines including Fury, City of the Big Shoulders, Beyond Lament, Lit Hub, Bellevue Literary Review, Brevity, Prairie Schooner, december, Woven Tale Press, Cimmaron Review, Patterson Literary Review, Connecticut River Review, New City Chicago and other venues. She has an MFA in poetry from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop and teaches creative writing at the University of Chicago Writer’s Studio. You can find her at www.dinaelenbogen.com
