i've seen the wings of coughing angels, bent, snapped off between fingers, like wishbones. i've blanketed them with burlap rags of red and blue, so neatly stitched, only to discover they were bewitched by men on ships. and with death on his lips, he laughed at their ****** backs and spotted foreheads. and he never bothered to cover his tracks, when sneaking into their beds.