Photograph — Alex Waterhouse-Hayward

Become Angels — Diana Hayes

It started at age eight.

Orgasms visiting in the night like thieves.

I was not prepared-what where they stealing?

If not my dumbfounding, what gift would they leave

disguised as hunger and longing?

I sang myself to sleep afterwards.

My secret was a blue light in the darkness,

a world that opened doors beyond skin.

Always hunger like a drum against my thighs

Always the slipping of will or reason

memory or promise, my secret

had nothing to do with boys.

Yet finding myself in the back of his Rambler, time and again

big sad eyes, believing I was now a woman, not a stranger

believing that the heart could sing.

He gave me drugs, Led Zeppelin, and a Singapore Sling,

promised the moon for my nakedness,

my mind elsewhere

the blue lights holding my hand.

Butterflies in my gut grew the size of hawks

warning of their prey.

Somehow the hunger won over my fear

boys became angels, my body their wings.

This is the Moon’s Work New and Selected Poems Diana Hayes

Link to: Boys Become Angels

Originally published at

Into Bunny Watson. I am a Vancouver-based magazine photographer/writer. I have a popular daily blog which can be found at: