When the trumpets blow,
I will see her, the angel Evelyn,
lifted on a cloud,
air-jet transporting her
to heights. Pleasure is slight,
perfection interpreted.
She wants to be healed.
Please, grant her
that rare sex
that doesn't start
when it begins or end
when it is over.
Little Evelyn, soon an angel,
one maimed leg, I weep
to see it, the slight
drag of her right foot.
Sarah Sarai
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/first-appearance-of-the-angel-evelyn/
