Deleting Angels
I dreamed of a fiery eyed angel,
whose only job was to sing between thunderclaps
and whisper sweet nothings into the heart
of epiphany’s persuasion.
But, she was bored.
Her muse crippled by the slow
thrumming of an adjacent and
mewling savant. His harp sang
beautifully, but also…redundantly
and as the storm raised its pulse,
it clattered against my eyelids.
Their harmony baffled my slumber,
and I rose, half awake
…still entranced by the static of
their disheveled ceremony.
I wished that I could hear her
speak more clearly, that the
song wasn’t so jarring,
to my rotting sensibility;
that I could sleep to the
sound of something less
erratic than your three
month old voice-mails;
repeating broken goodbyes
over and over, gestating
in the bowels of my denial.
I reached for the phone,
and watched lightning strike,
finally realizing I was awake;
I deleted your voice from the
the memory card in my chest
and laid beneath an empty sky.
There are no angels up there,
not really.
At least not when I’m awake.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.
Copyright © James Kelley | Year Posted 2014
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