Do you think I’m entitled to it.
To what he says.
Pleasure she says.
Don’t get any more specific
The angel coughs twice
while Theresa bangs her chest.
spring’s coming he says.
Yes she says.
In fact on the way over I thought I smelled corn
but that’s impossible.
Teresa bangs her chest again
like a truant horse.
I think something is wrong?
No says the angel.
Should it be this way
no engine just going and going.
Hmm I suppose so says the angel
but it’s difficult to tell
you’re marble now.
You’d sink in water. (Angel proverb.)
Theresa uses her marble thumb to
mash baked fruit while she mulls.
Before she became marble
Theresa and her girlfriends played soccer on the riverbank.
There was a highway and a field.
If the ball bounced too high it would bounce over the fence
into the highway first then the river.
A man retrieved the ball from the other side of the fence
sometimes he didn’t.
They kept their balls in nets attached to string.
The best players could kick the ball in a straight line
it would come back straight too
so they could kick and walk at the same time
like taking water from a hose.
Having a marble body is not so different from the other thing.
She plays flea circus with her feet.
One foot goes clockwise
one foot goes counterclockwise.
She is afraid if she does this too long her feet will become a brain
something of yet separate from the body.
The angel has a marble body too
but that’s normal for angels.
That’s why it’s called firmament says Theresa.
Bad joke. No response.
Theresa can barely see the angel.
I can see you fine
says the angel.
I know sighs Theresa.
Once Theresa had a pet hermit crab named Napoleon.
Theresa built mazes for Napoleon out of cardboard
that she fished surreptitiously from the basement.
She glued dress shirts to the tops of open boxes to make a canopy.
Napoleon’s shadow became a squid stain from above.
Being a statue thought Theresa
means experiencing every emotion exaggeratedly
Somewhere from the recesses of the past Napoleon’s shell
raps skittishly against the floor boards.
Theresa wonders where pleasure would go
if not firmed up and speared in stone
like an overgrown hermit crab
his hands caught between his legs.