New Moon

My guardian angel
is mostly wing.

Silk-soft pillows
enfold me
in milky-
white safety

when I can’t find
the moon.

He says,
“Love is in
the ashes,
baby,
and there ain’t
nothin’ brighter
than the stars
on a new moon.”

My angel
is from
the streets.

Who would have
guessed I got
one from here?

“Did you fall
from heaven
or something?”

He flaps a
smoke-curled
wing
and grins.

“Heaven’s
here.”

This fun poem just came out as I pictured a very cool-looking angel helping me through this tricky lockdown time. I hope you can find humor and truth in it. – Giulietta

Girl on the Street

Hi to any readers! I’ve been thinking about all those people living on the street, now that the weather here in England has turned cold and snowy. This poem is for them.

I’m holding a mirror
to the girl on the street.
What’s your name she asks
the glass and who
knocked you low?

She offers her cup
says I’ll tell you a
secret- look here
a diamond tear
among the coins
they throw.

You’ve a wool hat
like mine and golden curls
rough, a sweet smile –
a deer’s breath in snow.

She leaves the cup there
and the next day
it snows.

No one knows where
she’s gone folded
into the fog
another diamond
laying low.

In the glass I find
a cup full of the blues
and a secret that I keep
from the angel on the street.