Exorcising the Angels

EXORCISING THE ANGELS Armed with lethal joy, hard chromed, and brutally alloyed, with warmth and good cheer, I blaze the deep dark depths. Down into the hole, laughter in the wind, the water is cold as we ride the winter stream. It's pirate time as the clouds steal the sky. The heavens are gone, but I wouldn't know. Perhaps the spirit fades in the daily haze, clouds so low, fog so thick. So what? It's to the frozen ground I stick. In the freeze the flesh turns white, later to shatter into the shards of black so final. But the heart still beats, and the eyes still see deep into the hole where the spirit dares not go. So give up that ghost yearning for the heavens never more. Who needs heights to soar when armed with lethal joy? Broken-legged I march, new home sweet home, with my bag of dead cats' bones: Treasure trove for pirates sublime.