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.
Cold desert night, first of August.
The old, metal building rusting out.
This is where he said she came.
The stars have never been so indifferent.
No angels, aliens, anything else coming.
Just bright light left on in an empty room.
“She glowed with inner light!” he said.
“She was a gentle sun and star!”
I remember the love and awe in his eyes.
This gutted ruin was their home.
Here miracles happened.
No light here now.
“She loves you very much.” he told me.
“You are her very own.”
“You are a child of wonder.”
No remnants of them now.
Dad long dead. The angelic woman?
Was she real? Was she only his dream?
No one in the stars. No flight to eternity.
My heart aches looking up, wanting more.
Wanting something I cannot find in this world.
I wake up again in the back seat.
It’s almost dawn. I came about midnight.
There’s a fading cold in my head.
My heart thuds. My blood thick.
The same song plays on the radio.
Do you know angel from demon?
Her face, bone white, sharp, cruel.
Giant dark almond eyes. See it all.
The anesthetic lingering of dreams.
I am mute and on autopilot going back.
Her face, her serpent kisses, her lies.
I am father to another, a new kind of child.
No work until tonight, until the dark.
Windows covered. No light to burn me.
She is in my dreams, just as real there.
Our daughter grows her wings to cut me.
Many daughters, to take down ruling men.
Pretty faces with venom in their serpent kisses.