ALREADY THE WORLD
THE WONDER OF VICTORIA REDEL'S "TALKING ANGEL"
By Randal Brown
I love the way it shushes, slices, slips, how afterwards I walk around repeating “racks for backpacks,” the something that appears early and later and its transformation into everything, how one truly coos in reading the FrenchMon Dieu, that “outline of moisture where her hands press on the window,” American, Australian, Athens, questions, the could I say, wondering, the indeterminacy of it, something, whatever, a word, brother, sister, roommate, girl, the angel rising, blue wing net, angel updraft, wing beat, how I am there and not there, shadow flung, and how one can spend hours, a day, a lifetime on end repeating “I am that girl talking angel” and never find the same meaning twice.
(“Talking Angel” Victoria Redel and appears courtesy of the author)