At your parents’ your daughter
cut angels out of paper plates.

Angels have paper wings so they can fly
up to God, but no one believes in that
god anymore. Now god is
whatever Blake said.

What would an updated angel look like?
Someone screaming TREAT ME BETTER

The angels stood on their own
each in a side stretch, a play on grace
asymptotes make, the beautiful approach
that follows a line it will neither reach
nor run parallel to, and the new angels
don’t laugh, they encourage you.