Changeling

Bethany, in black knitted beanie, blue and worn ski jacket,
tight jeans, and black boots she’s had since high school

carries the memories of her lover, the weight of tin angel wings
and the soft, tender dreams that never came to be

as she walks in the cold, snow covered trail to the clearing
where The Devil From The Sky comes down for her.

 

5 hours, already morning, the night over, no sleep.
An ache in her, something taken, something precious.

The room undisturbed, her mind as dense and fogged
as her window now that the snow has come, blizzard tattered out.

A face, ashen with black, almond eyes, a voice unnerving in it’s calm.
A finger cold that brought sleep as it touched her cheek. She was a child, then.

 

She dreams of a child at night, her restless soul, The Devil From The Sky’s
ashen skin and black almond eyes. In the dream, she knows he can see her.

Repulsed and filled with love, she reaches out to him, but the distance is
that between man and god, woman and man, mother and child.

He laughs, floating in mid-air, untouched by humanity and the earth,
but the raw and naked madness that led her to marry a man who was death.

 

At the clearing now, sunset fading away to the pinprick bleeding of stars.
The brightest light cuts the skin the deepest, takes what it wants without a thought.

Nothing left here in this world. Her husband dead. The house burning. Madness screaming.
The Devil From The Sky may as well burn her eyes out and toss her aside.

And like the mockery of an angel, his light and ship comes down, silent, with teeth.
Nowhere left and soon enough he’ll put her away from her mind and life, that hateful, changeling child.

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