Flightless Angel

Flightless Angel Incarnate, Florence Nightingale Like a lily-white flightless Angel, Did she not turn me from Hades With the beckon of her shades? With needles, scissors & strings You’d say she clipped her wings; Laying all supine where I bled To land and to wipe all the red! Was it vertigo or just a reverie For adoring the lily-white lingerie After rising from the cold dead To see an Angel beside my head; Not indignant; with nonchalance, To Me; dozed chap in a trance Believing not in my bleary eyes But imagination or visual lies? Picking spaghetti of thin strand With a form of “cutlery” in hand How I lusted her dutiful structure As she worked out the suture. Angel has landed with a thud To heal the sick sucked in mud- Would I, again, meet Angel sweet Who’s elusive and so discreet! JM 20th December 2013