deliver me from heavenly creatures who only do the bidding of their own kind, to protect the flight of wings wound with wire and feathers, mesh and flesh

preserving all they know

without looking out

candles burn

leading our way to shoe clad monsters clip-clop-clapping around

uncovering homes of the lost and unfound

exposing fault to find faith

sharing inadequacy, it wasn’t the seventh but the eighth

day, when we sang together

you, soaring above, nose high, self-righteous indignation, mirrors must not be hoisted to the sky, the atmosphere is two-ply, insulating insults, words we catch in the breeze

when you come down

to where we dwell

witness instead of speculate

heaven describes what’s above alone, not a status of gold perched on a throne

what do you call us when setting the table of difference?

other

bother

try

mother and brother

we’ll share spaces

find more pleasure

touching faces