The Music of…
twenty-two angels singing.
Yes,
they do look different,
chubby arms and legs,
mouths slightly ajar.
They don’t look like us,
don’t act like us,
but maybe that’s how its supposed to be.
Because on that stage,
singing a little too loudly,
clapping out of rhythm,
these angels are the best I’ve ever heard.
The sound they create
causes the halls to echo,
and the plush covered seats to vibrate.
The Notes?
A bit broken.
The voices?
Off key.
The heart?
Exactly in the right spot.
Twenty-two angels
with almond shaped eyes
and an extra copy of 21,
belt out praises on Christmas Eve.
I like how you organized your line breaks. My favorite part of the poem is when you inserted the questions near the end and then answered them. Very creative.
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