The Prisoner and the Angel: Fridge Poem #5

Today my husband shot a film in our apartment. They had to take all my magnetic poetry off the fridge. (One of the people on crew was so sweet as to try to preserve my poems, but they finally gave up and put them in a plastic bag.)

Tonight's poem is created entirely by pulling words out of the bag. No editing at all. I only rearranged words and added punctuation. Then I tacked on the title as shown below.






The Prisoner Calls Upon the Speaking Angel

Neuter away, wise prisoner.

Linger personality.
Open are
my obnoxious steel window.

Explore milk magic.

Question it, angel.