i saw the dead angel in the backyard from the kitchen window. at first i didn’t know what it was – just a small grey-white shape at the foot of the bird fountain, that i couldn’t identify. i went out to investigate and found it to be a small winged corpse, much much smaller than i would have expected – the size of a 3-year-old child – but thinner – thin grey papery skin, almost translucent, curled up in a fetal position, the two dry feathery wings as big as the body itself. the head was hairless, but i couldn’t see its face, since the two thin arms were covering it, as though crying in its sleep. at first i just stood and stared at at, afraid to touch it, wondering how it got there. there was no smell at all, unlike, say, the corpse of the rat that had been behind the fridge for a week. no actually there was a faint smell, but it wasn’t unpleasant, just the faintest fragrance of honey, so light i thought i could be imagining it. maybe i was.