life after angels

Life after angels has broken wings, I learned as I
let two legs swing over the edge,
still feeling

king of the sky
even while
two bloody things on the ground behind me
argued otherwise.

My feet hovered over
air, that free fall into shattered-bones despair
a thousand feet beneath; it’d be so easy to

turn the other cheek and deny I
would suffer,

dragged down by regretful
lovers of
gravity into a menage-a-trois with
contractually obligated
death.

So many spirals are
laid to rest when
the only path leads
straight down.

I wonder aloud if
life after the angels is why it rains at
inopportune times, why the light in
her eyes has all but
been absolved.

I look back only once
at neanderthal ambition,
for the way is forward even
if I must walk.

No point in letting a fall stop me,
because Heaven is just on the other side
of this
God forsaken rock.

 

 

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