Heaven’s damaged angel judged her wing
creased or bent. She invented
a splint, briefly mended it.
Soared, drifted awhile intact.
Then fell to earth.
Here to always paint,
first with pure white,
the facts. Then
to bury them
with an equal
amount of
black.


Copyright 1995, Joan Ross Blaedel


Joan Ross Blaedel is a Seattle visual artist and writer. Her poetry has been displayed on METRO buses and published in King County Art Commission’s Written Arts. Her visual art is reproduced in this issue of Switched-On Gutenberg.