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 

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