I wake in the middle of the night to whimpers. An angel shivers beside me, translucent as shadow. It vomits a chrysalis into my hand, sticky and green. Its red eyes ripple like pools. Where are the others? But the room contains only this small shadow, infinite in its softness. The mirror gluts with moon. If an angel dies, the silence becomes absolute. I tuck the angel inside my body. Its sickness is fi rst a claw in my gut, then a dull purr. Inside the chrysalis, a tiny bell grows wings.
From Hunger Mountain Issue 23: Silence & Power, which you can purchase here.
Art by Sondra Graff, curated by Dana Lyons.
Jade Hurter is the author of the chapbook SLUT SONGS (Hyacinth Girl Press 2017), and her work has appeared in THRUSH, The Columbia Poetry Review, Glass, Passages North, New South, and elsewhere. She teaches English at the University of New Orleans.