FALLEN ANGELS

By Ronan Collins

Sitting alone at her Five Wounds

of Christ where she feeds the pigs

of her animal farm.

Chippy manifestos of god’s purloin her

husband’s soul, & the devil’s

[steel ice] infernal son.

Shaky heart physically rocking her

brittle bones, prayers of Patron Saints:

Colmcille, Brigid, & Patrick.

I stand in lee of my

bedroom window from the praying &

saints, they never help.

I postulate words Nikola Tesla proclaimed,

‘There are many fallen angels here on

Earth,’ god’s fall too.

My mother an apparition of herself

so, I succour her ancient featherless wings

eviscerating the animal farm.

My brother comes home from work

the house cleaned & dinner’s cooked, he

never observes fallen angels.

#DarkPoetsClub