Angels

By Virginia Watts

Clayton was slow, our parents said.
To us he was nothing but sweet,
full of smiles. Mostly he played
with plastic trucks in his backyard dirt
but when we walked to The Church
of the Nazarene, Clayton tagged along.

We all loved that nearby graveyard
behind a church none of us went to,
one gnarled tree, easy to climb,
birds calling, butterflies floating, 
stray cats dozing in the sun,
ancient headstones, chiseled
numbers and names we stuffed
with yellow buttercups. We knew
about old age, death, funerals,
skeletons, didn’t care.

Clayton’s favorite angel stood atop
Mr. Harvey Tingle’s gravestone.
He died in 1897. Tingle’s angel
had massive wings, unfurled
all the way to catch a mighty wind.
She stared down at the grave. Pity,
since her home was up.

One day Clayton lay on his back
on top of Tingle’s grave, squirming
around to get a better view when
a minister came outside, told us
Clayton didn’t know how to act,
that we were no longer welcome. 

We walked a sobbing Clayton home.
His mom saved the day, gave us
ice cream sandwiches. This town
is full of graveyards and Clayton,
now that your angel saw your beautiful
face, she’ll find you wherever you go.

Virginia Watts is the author of poetry and stories found in CRAFT, The Florida Review, Reed Magazine, Pithead Chapel, Permafrost Magazine, Broadkill Review among others. Her poetry chapbooks are available from Moonstone Press. She has been nominated four times for a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. A short story collection is upcoming in November 2023 from The Devil’s Party Press. Visit her at https://virginiawatts.com/.