The angel inside my bone,
drank dark red marrow to an early grave.
Self-honesty was bad for the both of us
because I was born wrong,
whatever glow she had she drowned in.
But my hair shines like butterscotch underneath the cold light of a firefly.
I love him like this,
without the ability to fly.
When his sea-black eyes look inside me
I know I am good.
& when the water collects into a swamp
I trust he will dig me out
Goldie Negelev is a poet living in Oakland, California. Her poetry has appeared in Reality Beach, Fog Machine and Bottlecap Press.