TSM 119

another day sniffing the armpits of angels
humidity rank with birdsweat
their spent avian fuel
 
the air close with burnt feathers
heat shields that gave out
on re-entry
 
now God hacking up
hairballs of spark plugs
and broken wings
 
all the Gabriel-class hawks
gone to ground even
the sparrows hallow-eyed


The Sunday Muse

29 thoughts on “TSM 119

  1. A lot of sensory input in this, smelling, burning, breaking…I think the first line is a great hook, and each short stanza’s particular carnage seems vivid, distasteful, and …I suppose ominous is the best word. I am not much of a believer in angels, but these useless ones seem just right for our current times to me. Flying may seem like the ultimate refuge, but its perils just may outnumber its positives when the sky is on fire. Very original writing, qbit. ~hedgewitch

    Liked by 1 person

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