Money Angel

I send you 

the money angel.

Her hands are many 

like our needs

and she listens 

with her thousand ears.

Do you see the mark 

on her forehead

the mole of our million miseries

and this money angel comes

with the currencies of her grief

for us the living 

and the almost dead?

She comes with the brilliance 

of the morning

on our emails, once, twice, thrice

at moments we need more 

of the hoping

than we can imagine 

in this recession 

of grace: our times are nervous,

anguished indeed, the uncertain

in the certainty of her promise, 

this money angel whose vision 

of earth must be sent

in sixes: six friends 

who need our forward

our memo appearing 

in the daylight hours

when nights are saved 

to welcome

the first glint 

of light

six people on our list 

of the familiar

whose stories we collect 

to put together

in the anthology 

of the pleasure of things

where the place of pain 

is in the unknown

corners of emails.

A Solver Agcaoili

Hon, HI/Mar 7/09