Underground Angel

Mind the gap between her shoulders where the skin flares. The colour of fallen ships. Her folded feathers in the underworld. One day she’d like to throw herself against a wall where they could see her. Where they could gawp. She is not what they would wish to worship. Giggling in the crowded tunnels. Earthbound she is crow-faced. She is musty. A room that has been empty for far too long. She studies them. She is a soul-hoarder of the living people. To remain out of the clouds and within this darkness, she must take parts of the commuters and rearrange them within herself. She is a kaleidoscope of body parts. She barters; she is a shop. She contemplates how much of her soul she’s already sold.