Angels Fly

She's pacing again, the black
goddess, Persephone. She anticipates
violence as if she creates it. What guilt
beauty holds for its own kidnapping.

How bitter are the grapes of death?
What snake lies basking on the heated
rock? Now, skin peels back and thin
falls away.

She sits and stares into darkness,
a skyless, black room. Does the addict
fall in love with the drug or does it
kill them? An invisible wound.

The sound of sunlight, a singing
bird reminds the soul of where
it started. With wings fashioned out
of paper she flies up through flame.

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