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