We’re as close as the mill grinding wheat now – a crushing production of friction.
Above fallen dreams lighting the stars to dream on, the herculean Athenian bends only when a child needs her.
What if every time an angel is stripped of its wings and responsibilities beside the throne of God, it falls violently to earth?
I took a pause,
let my toes feel the pebbles
and my hair gets lost in the breeze
As I dance through straw and dirt.
I know he will not hurt
me, he always stops.
I feel demons, man-sin,
Sitting, watching me
Atop cracked telephone poles.