Patchwork angel slumped
in the corner chair,
she settled herself carefully
amongst the immigrants, dust-mite communities
who built cities of lint within
her woolen hair.

It began with stowaways
who clung fiercely to cardboard walls
with their transparent hands,
smuggling themselves in
with hoarded nostalgia,
too precious to release but
forgotten once a shiny trinket
attracts the eye.

Hanging her rag-doll head
the wingless wonder
allowed herself an internal sigh,
mute from her
back-stitched mouth,
sewn to silence her opinions
and leave emotions stagnant.