They were not created on the first day.
They are not light, nor dark; they live
in bright shadows in between.
They do not rise nor set; they were not
created on the fourth day.
They are not reputed to seed themselves
or to slither or creep, neither to swim;
they have been mistaken for men,
but they are not we, and we are not them.
Either they were made between
the cracks in time,
outside of day or night,
so that only when we fall through
do we seem them in the bright shadows
of dying, dark light;
or else, perhaps, on the seventh day,
as God was resting,
the divine mind dreamed of angels.