An all-white angel approaches

A pale-armed Athena to dress my wounds
in sympathy
                         She cannot stray from her war

For it is what she loves,
                                           and what she loves
                                                       is to burn
          
                               with an intensity reserved
                                              for the start of
                                          
                                something new

A clearing away of
                                     tired wisdom

Today, she runs her fingers
through my wild mind

Tomorrow, she walks alone
through sun scorched dirt,

              dry as the oldest bones

Everyone is *****, and no one
                  can escape the dust of time

But once in a while, she lets out a smile
                            that makes us feel new
                                            and clean

                                      like her

                        shining
                            ­          ivory
                                                 skin