the flooded staircase of history
at what may have been
all streaming vivid chaos in its wake
if only she had looked up and dreamt as well
their daughter she died that night in his mind
like a snowflake melting in the warmth of his palm
all of them lost as if a talisman lode star
still shining fell from the sky leaving only a hole
large enough for the oracle of God
to gaze at the tragedy beneath
a solitary angel decorated the night sky
and bore witness like a reluctant ghost
Flynnpoetry 