Requiem

The angels I love bicker over cod guts and snapper spines. They joust for flounder skulls and pick the bones clean, screaming. Their harsh, fine voices break across my town in a language lost to my kind, thoughtless in the clear now of now without death. Christ, walk down streets paved with rain to me and you drown in my choir, my angels beating prayer under wing which is the want I have not loved well. Where did my weather go? Meet me where my hidden weather went, where praise and rain are never spent. "Requiem" is from a sequence titled "Hard Weather Prayers."