Her Belly Made of Wings

 

The wings of her belly

surround her navel

curve protectively around it,

open slightly, and shut.

No need for full length.

 

Her wings sprouted as she sprouted

grew from buds to full-blown form.

They are gray

silky.

They scoop air to her belly button

which receives it.

 

She learned as a child

that her breath came from wings.

She would run, opening her mouth wide

aping the other children but

came up panting, bereft of air.

“Freak angel!” “Human bird!” 

Tucking the wings under her coat left her gasping. 

She learned her wings must be naked—

that her lungs simply existed.

 

It took him months to

feel her current,

to see clearly the wings around her navel.

She never cared 

that he breathed differently.

 

Her wings undulate

and air drifts over his cheeks.

He trembles, deluged with sensation.

 

His head in her lap

her breath as a prayer on the back of his neck.

He falls asleep, smiling.