The Weeping Angels, a group of Doctor Who villains, gave me the idea for this poem. The Weeping Angels turn to stone when anyone looks at them and appear to be statues. However, when their victims look away or blink, the Weeping Angels send the victims back in time and feast on the futures, the potentialities, that are left behind.
After my loss, I thought about all the things that were no longer going to happen--a whole future snuffed out like a candle--and I imagined my own set of time-eating scavengers. I imagined them eating up the whole of my daughter's life, at least the life she should have had.