The Black Angel rises out of Oakland Cemetery
in Iowa City—ten feet tall, solid bronze, dark as a storm rolling in. Her wings
are raised, her head tipped downward, like she’s watching something you can’t
see. Or waiting for it.
People will tell you all kinds of things about
her. She moves. Cries at midnight. If you kiss under her wings, you’ll be dead
within a year.
It might be nonsense. Maybe not. Either way,
nobody walks up to her like she’s just another statue.
People don’t understand that she didn’t start out
that way.
When the statue went up in 1913, it was bright
bronze. It was commissioned by Teresa Feldevert after the deaths of her son and
husband. She wanted something permanent that would hold their memory in place.


